Stable Artifice
by Erimentha0
Summary: WIP Willow’s on the run with Spike, Angel and Dru. But things start getting complicated between her and Spike.
1. Part 1

Stable Artifice By Erimentha Rated R (Eventually)  
  
DISCLAIMER: BtVS and AtS belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and other peeps who aren't me.  
  
SUMMARY: Willow's on the run with Spike, Angel and Dru. But things start getting complicated between her and Spike.  
  
PAIRING: S/W eventually  
  
CHARACTERS: Willow, Spike, Angel, Drusilla  
  
TIMELINES: Buffy--Takes place after season four, where it diverts from canon. Pretend that a full year passes between the end of four and the start of five. Angel--this is a little trickier. Takes place after season one, but we're going to pretend that the offices weren't blown up. Again, pretend a full year passes between the end of one and the start of two.  
  
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Willow wondered if Spike was tapping his fingers to a song that only he could hear. Her mind drifted away from Giles' oration of the newest research subject and focused on the rat-a-tat-tat sounds of Spike's fingers drumming on Giles' kitchen table. Each finger slapped down, starting with his index finger and finishing with his pinkie. There was a clicking sound every so often that cut through the blunt finger noises when he didn't position his fingers just right.  
  
Willow slanted her eyes in his direction, noticing the way he was staring at a point behind Giles, one eyebrow cocked. He was bored. That raised brow was part and parcel of a good many of his facial expressions, but Willow had learned to look for other indications of his mood. She knew to check the set of his jaw next, to see if it was fury or disgust that caused him to lift his brow. She could tell it was fury if the muscles next to his jaw were dancing: tic-tic-tic. And if his upper lip was curled, then she knew it was fury.  
  
Neither of those tell-tale signs were present, however, which meant that he was either feeling flirtatious or bored. Since his icy blue gaze was focused on no one in particular, and his smart mouth was shut, she knew he wasn't feeling flirtatious.  
  
Willow knew that if Giles became aware that Spike wasn't paying close attention, he'd pitch a fit. Which was ridiculous. If Giles, or any of the others, had taken more time to observe the blond vampire rather than snapping at him, they'd have realized what Willow had: Spike was fantastically intelligent.  
  
A tenth of his attention was all that was needed to absorb and process any information presented to him and extrapolate other details and ramifications that the gang might not have seen. She'd found it hard to believe at first, remembering his doomed-from-the-start plans from past encounters. Then she'd come to understand that it hadn't been a lack of intelligence that had made him fail oh-so-many times, but a lack of patience.  
  
But no one took the time to see Spike for anything other than the resentful help that he was. Willow still wasn't sure why Giles had suggested that they blackmail Spike, but she had her opinions on the subject. She supposed it didn't matter since, in the end, they had all agreed.  
  
It *had* made their lives easier. Spike was no longer spending his every waking hour devising and implementing fantastical schemes to kill Buffy, as he had started doing shortly after the destruction of the Initiative.  
  
The Initiative. While they'd been channeling the first Slayer, Spike had joined the melee after Adam's betrayal. As bad luck would have it, he'd come across an Initiative doctor. They'd had no clue whatsoever that Spike had spent the next bit of time "convincing" the doctor to take the behavior modification chip out of his head.  
  
They'd found out later that summer, when Spike had casually stepped in Buffy and Willow's path one evening as they'd been walking through the park to Buffy's house. The attempts on Buffy's life had started that night. Each one had become more and more desperate and flawed, until they'd finally been deemed nothing more than a great nuisance by the Slayer. More frustrating to Buffy and the others was that, while Spike's planning abilities were horrendously sub par when he was being ruled by his emotions, he was not even close to being an easy kill.  
  
Enter Giles, with the great blackmail scheme: Spike helped them when they needed him, or they restored his soul a la Angel. The strangest thing about it all was that Spike had agreed. Not readily, of course, but a lot more easily than Willow would have thought.  
  
Willow blinked, suddenly noticing that Spike was looking at her, and wondered just how long had she been staring at him, lost in thought. Oh boy, she was going to pay for that.  
  
She was sitting across from him, a pencil in her hand and the results of her and Giles' research spread out before her on the table. Giles was still relating every detail of what they'd learned, and a quick glance his way revealed that he was only a quarter of the way through it all.  
  
Spike shifted in his chair, slouching even more. His long legs were crossed at the ankles, and he moved his arms up and laced his fingers behind his head. That icy stare kindled, warming and softening the sharp angles of his face. Willow repressed the urge to roll her eyes at his predictability, knowing that it would ruin bit of pleasure he got out of aggravating them all with this game.  
  
She waited, watching him closely. As she knew it would, that patented smirk appeared, pulling at his lips. Willow didn't laugh, but she felt like her amusement was apparent in her eyes. Maybe he noticed, because she saw of a flicker of the same emotion in his blue gaze before it traveled suggestively from her face to her chest. He tilted back slightly on the chair and ran his eyes over the rest of her body, which had previously been obscured by the table. Despite the fact that her figure was more than hidden behind the loose purple peasant blouse and matching long skirt she wore, he twitched that raised eyebrow.  
  
Willow quickly looked around the room, noticing that no one was paying attention her or Spike: Giles had his back to them and was pointing at some drawings he'd pinned to the wall, Xander was nearly catatonic from information overload, and Buffy was restless, her favorite stake flying back and forth from one hand to another.  
  
Willow smiled, and decided to take the opportunity to be bad. Not bad bad, as in Skanky Vampire Willow. But bad, as in, mischievous.  
  
Her elbows moved to the table, and she propped her chin in her hands, tilting her head a bit and letting her face go all dreamy. She sighed quietly, in mock-adoration, and let her gaze roam over his body, which was, after all, stretched out so invitingly and encased in his usual garb of too tight black jeans, dark red shirt, and leather duster. She simpered. She didn't know if she was successful at a simper, but that was because she'd never really seen anyone simper. She did her best, at any rate.  
  
Spike was fighting back laughter, but that wasn't good enough to gain her a victory. So she widened her eyes even more, then quivered her chin, as though overcome by his hotness.  
  
That was when he lost it, and his laughter bounced from his lips and sprang to all four corners of the room. Oh, and both of his eyebrows were lowered, which meant that she'd succeeded in surprising the heck out of him. Willow didn't have the time to savor her win. Spike hadn't yet noticed that everyone in the room was now glaring at him, but Willow had. She quickly frowned in confusion and stared at Spike along with the rest of the group.  
  
When Spike's laughter finally faded away, Giles' displeased voiced took its place. "Do you find something laughable about the bodies Xander discovered?"  
  
Spike smirked, no bothering to hide the merriment in his voice. "Nah. Mildly amusing that. Not laugh-out-loud funny stuff. That was Red's doing."  
  
Willow met Giles' eyes innocently, her brow furrowed. Her shoulders shrugged as if to say, "I have no idea." She was careful not to overdo it, because then he would know that she was guilty of instigating the outburst.  
  
It was all part of this game that she and Spike had started playing months ago. They each tried to get the other to draw attention to themselves in some manner, be it laughter, shock, or embarrassed squeaks. Or even, once, a shout of anger because one party had her hand on her lap under the table, holding a small squirt gun filled with holy water, and had just aimed a quick shot at the other party's ribcage. Oooh, but that had been fun.  
  
Their game was something they'd never spoken about, just simply done, and she thought that he needed it. Because while she had no idea why he had given in to the blackmail with less fight than he should have, she had her opinions on that subject as well.  
  
Again, neither her theories nor the truth mattered, because the situation was what it was: Spike was being forced to help a group of people who hated him. Willow's empathetic nature had made it impossible for her to treat Spike like something that she'd scraped off the bottom of her shoes after a trip into the sewers. That was why she played this game with him.  
  
Giles glared at Spike one final time and was about to begin his lecture again, but apparently Buffy's patience had finally worn out. "Cut to the chase, please, Giles. I'm begging here."  
  
Willow acted quickly, pinning stern eyes on Spike as she levitated the pencil that had been in her hand. His eyes were gleaming wickedly, and Willow had a feeling that he was going to ignore her and start a free-for- all. He'd done so in the past, and she didn't think he was above doing it again.  
  
She never found out what exactly he'd been about to do, because a loud chirping noised startled her and the pencil fell to the table. Spike snickered at her, and Willow felt herself blushing. She was not as cool as she wished to be. Still too easily embarrassed and unsure of herself. She supposed she was lucky that he let her get away with pretending otherwise when they were playing around.  
  
"Good lord, does no one care?" Giles exclaimed as Spike pulled his cell phone out of the pocket of his duster, still snickering. The ex-Watcher pinched the bridge of his nose, and Willow knew that Spike was getting a kick out of it. So was she, even if her conscience niggled her a little bit. After all, the idea of including Spike had been Giles', and it was only that that he had to reap the fallout. That they all had to, actually.  
  
Spike's cell phone was still ringing, and Buffy opened her mouth. Willow forestalled anything the Slayer might have said by glaring at Spike and hissing, "Answer it."  
  
Then Willow turned back to her friends, kind of amazed that Spike was actually doing as she'd said, and told them, "It's a Ziweyr demon. Bronze to the crotch kills it."  
  
Xander flinched and crossed his legs, gaping at her in a ridiculous manner. "The crotch? CROTCH?"  
  
"That's where its brains are," Willow explained helpfully, a wide smile on her face. Xander didn't appreciate it, and neither did Giles if his deep calming breath was anything to go by, but Buffy did.  
  
Her eyes were sparkling as she said, "The only creature alive who actually has an excuse for thinking with its--"  
  
"Yes, yes," Giles interrupted hastily, staring down at the floor.  
  
"What!?!?"  
  
The word tore through the room, and everyone once again stared at the vampire in their midst. Willow found that she couldn't read the look on his face. Yes, there was fury there, but something else, too, that she didn't recognize.  
  
His jaw was clenched, and the tic-tic-tic was working overtime. Never a good sign on its own, but coupled with the fact that he was sitting upright suddenly, and his free hand was digging into the wood of Giles' table.well, Willow figured it was safe to say that the fallout did not want to be avoided that night.  
  
She sighed, wondering whom among them was going to take the brunt of his furious outburst. Then the wood beneath his hands splintered and a huge chunk of Giles' table crashed to the floor. There was movement from the corner of Willow's eye. She turned to see Buffy standing. Xander was next to her and his eyes were hard, that look he got when he knew that all hell was going to break loose and was pissed because just once it would have be nice if that didn't happen. Giles merely looked resigned.  
  
"I'm leaving now," Willow heard Spike grind out tightly, and faced him again. He was standing and was in the process of lowering the phone from his ear when something made him bring it back at the last second. He listened for a moment, then said, "Got it. And I'll take care of the other thing."  
  
His thumb wrapped around the phone to end the call and then the phone fell forgotten from his fingers, dropping to the broken table with a loud thump that made Willow start.  
  
Spike stood there for a long tense moment, then shook himself. Without sparing any of them a glance, he strode through the living room and out the front door. Everyone was too shocked to move, because that was the last thing they'd been expecting. Spike physically attacking Buffy had probably occurred to everyone in the room. Spike verbally attacking any of them had definitely occurred to them all. But Spike walking out without a word was just mind-boggling.  
  
"Okay, what was *that* about?" Xander asked in confusion.  
  
The others shrugged, and Willow got up quickly to follow him. That must have been unexpected as well, because Buffy wasn't behind her when she hurried through the courtyard in front of Giles' apartment.  
  
He was nowhere to be seen on the street, and Willow thought her best bet was to go to his crypt. It took her ten minutes to make her way there, and she was tense the entire time because after going a block she'd realized that she hadn't brought any weapons. A stroke of luck must have landed on her head, because she made it to his residence without incident.  
  
She could hear cursing and banging from outside, and she opened the the door and hesitantly stepped inside.  
  
Spike was in the center of the room, stuffing clothing into a black duffle bag. The entire place had been destroyed; the bed was overturned, the television was shattered and the small dresser where his clothes had previously been stored was turned on its side, every drawer removed, the contents scattered across the floor.  
  
"Spike?" Willow ventured softly.  
  
"What?" he snapped, not stopping his hurried packing.  
  
"Are you...is everything...all right?" she asked.  
  
He froze in the middle of stuffing a pair of jeans into his bag. The tic- tic-tic was more like tictictictictictic. He stayed that way for a long time, and just when she'd given up hope of getting an answer, he laughed harshly. "No, everything is *not* all right."  
  
"Can I help?" she asked quietly, and he turned to her. Willow flinched when she saw the raw pain in his eyes. It was worse than what she'd seen in them after Dru had left him for a chaos demon, and he'd kidnapped her to perform a love spell. Shaking his head, he finished filling the bag and hefted it into his arms. He took two steps towards Willow and then stopped, glaring behind her.  
  
"Where are you going?" Buffy demanded from the doorway.  
  
"Yeah, I thought we were clear on the whole, you don't leave Sunnydale clause of our agreement?" Xander chimed in.  
  
Willow bit into her lower lip, her breath coming faster. They didn't realize that this wasn't a Spike they had ever seen before. He was now a master vampire who was coldly furious and didn't care what they were holding over his head. She had no idea why, and doubted that even her imagination could come up with something to suitably explain the ferocity he was exhibiting.  
  
"Let him leave," Willow told Buffy and Xander, carefully and deliberately stepping out of Spike's path. "Just move away and let him leave."  
  
Neither of her friends moved. Willow reached out and grabbed Xander's arm, leaning back with all of her weight. She caught him off guard and he stumbled into her. She stepped in front of him, her back pressed against his chest and her feet planted firmly on the ground. Her eyes moved between Buffy and Spike, taking in their tense stances and almost tasting the violence that hung in the air. She reached out one entreating hand towards the Slayer. "Buffy, please."  
  
Willow held her breath, hoping that Buffy would listen to her. "Will, if you think I'm just going to get out of the way and let him leave, then you're insane. No way. No how." She mockingly raised an eyebrow at Spike. "Get real, Spike. You know what will we'll do and you know--"  
  
"Shut the bloody Hell up," Spike yelled suddenly, and Willow flinched, stepping backwards and moving herself and Xander farther away from the vampire. Spike still hadn't moved, but neither had Buffy, and Willow wasn't taking any chances.  
  
"I am going," Spike enunciated through clenched teeth. "And you are not stopping me."  
  
"We don't need to," Buffy reminded him coldly. "You know the deal, Spike, and you know what will happen." She reached into her jacket and came out with a stake. Spike moved in a blur, and grabbed Buffy by the neck before she'd even had the chance to position it in hand properly. He lifted his arm, and she rose from the floor until she was at eye level with him, her hands clawing at his. "I. Am. Going," he repeated clearly. "You can do whatever the hell you want."  
  
Willow's breathing became uncontrolled, and she reached behind her and grabbed Xander around the waist to prevent him from rushing Spike. So far she'd been able to keep herself and Xander off of Spike's radar, and she liked that just fine. And Buffy could certainly handle herself, that was for sure.  
  
*Let her go, and leave. Let her go, and leave. Let her go, and leave. Let her go, and leave,* Willow willed silently, her heart jumping in her chest.  
  
A long moment later, a low growl tore from Spike's throat. With a look of disgust, he released Buffy abruptly and spun on his heel, disappearing into the night. Buffy landed on a heap on the floor, choking. Willow let Xander push past her and go to Buffy's side, then she sank to the floor as well, tears streaming down her face.  
  
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Willow gratefully took the tea that Giles handed her, then assured him for the nth time that she was just fine, and that he should go to bed. Since Xander and Buffy had dropped her off an hour ago before heading out in search of Spike, Giles had been in mother-hen mode, which she normally didn't mind. But right then her nerves were close to breaking and she just wanted to be alone so that she could let it all go without upsetting anyone else.  
  
She curled up on the sofa, tea in hand, and watched him make it to the stairs before he stopped and turned to her. An unreadable expression fell across his face and then he took a breath. "Willow, I know that you have become something of a friend to Spike and that--"  
  
Her head fell back, and she sighed. "Giles, I don't know anything."  
  
Giles tilted his head and met her eyes. "I'm not suggesting that you do, Willow. I merely meant that it must be difficult for you, what happened this evening. You are very sensitive and you thought Spike to be a friend."  
  
With great effort, Willow lifted her head and straightened her back, her jaw setting.  
  
"No, I didn't," she disagreed quietly, her voice firm. "You can't be friends with someone that you've blackmailed, Giles. The most you can do is form an uneasy.truce of sorts that only lasts as long as the situation. I expected something like this to happen sooner or later--we all did--and now it has." Giles opened his mouth, but Willow held up a hand and he closed it again. "I don't feel betrayed, or anything like that."  
  
Giles nodded his head slowly, and reached up to remove his glasses. He didn't clean them, just held them in his hand as he looked down in thought for a moment. "You'll miss him," he said, sounding surprised.  
  
He also seemed worried, if his drawn brows were anything to go by. Willow vowed her next bit of reassurance would be the last of the night. "I'll do what needs to be done, Giles."  
  
Glasses slipped easily onto his face again, and a sad smile half-heartedly pulled at his lips. "I know, Willow. You always do. You know where the blankets and pillows are. Sleep well."  
  
Up the stairs he went, and Willow listened to the sounds from above her. The water running in the bathroom, the toilet flushing, a door closing, and the comforting sounds of Bach that always settled Giles down on the nights when he couldn't ignore the fact that his "children" were far too wise in things they never should have had to learn in the first place.  
  
Only then did she set the tea down on the coffee table and pick up a throw pillow from the sofa. She pressed it to her face and let the stress of the evening fall away with her tears, the sounds muffled and barely distinguishable from Bach. When she was done, when the events of earlier were no longer clawing at her skin, she set the pillow aside and stood to dump the now-cold tea.  
  
Her hands shook as frantically as her mind was racing. Instead of setting the mug in the sink, she washed it. Along with every other dirty dish. The counters were scrubbed. The cabinets were neatened. The floor was swept. She found herself standing near the tall cabinet in the kitchen in which Giles kept the mop and broom, her hand clutching the broom handle and her breath coming raggedly.  
  
She hadn't lied to Giles. Long ago she had realized that truths confessed to him and him alone would stay between them. So she always told him the truth, no matter that it would make her seem soft or silly, or anything else.  
  
There was other truth that she hadn't spoken. Maybe Giles knew, maybe he had read between her words, between the reassurances in her eyes. It wouldn't have been the first time. It was that unspoken truth that kept her frozen by the broom cabinet and made her unable to turn around and look at the broken table.  
  
But she hadn't lied to Giles so she squared her shoulders and released the broom, closing the cabinet door softly. She went to the table and straightened the chairs around it, then grabbed the chunk of wood Spike had ripped from it and tossed it into the garbage. She rummaged around in the drawers until she found a linen tablecloth and a padded vinyl liner. The drawer next to the sink contained a tattered roll of duct tape and she grabbed it before heading back to the table.  
  
The liner was folded up and then taped to the splintered edge of the table and then Willow faced the task of clearing off the table. The research was still covering half of it. One of Giles' mugs was there, the inside a mess of dried cow's blood.  
  
Willow cleaned it all, carefully gathering the research into a folder and laying it on Giles' desk in the living room. She put the mug in the sink, but didn't even contemplate cleaning it. Then all that was left was Spike's cell phone. Her fingers clenched on the linen tablecloth in her left hand as her right crept slowly towards the small piece of technology. No one had to know. When it was in her hand she slipped it into the roomy pocket of her skirt and then unfolded the cloth and laid it over the table.  
  
There was nothing left to do then and Willow felt numb as she slipped her shoes off and padded barefoot to the foyer closet. Stacked neatly on the shelves above the coats was enough bedding for a small army of Scoobies. Willow selected the cozy flannel comforter and a plush down pillow. She tossed them in the general direction of the sofa, then crouched down to reach the labeled plastic containers that sat on the floor. Hers was behind Buffy's, and she fumbled with the lid and delved inside for a set of nightclothes.  
  
She changed at the closet then pulled Spike's cell phone from her skirt before stuffing her clothing in the hamper bag that hung from a hook on the back of the closet door. In her thin cotton sleep pants and tank top, she made her way to her bag and slipped the phone inside. Then she made up the couch and turned off the living room night before settling down. Her mind was too wiped out to be chaotic, and she was asleep in minutes.  
  
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The next day was Saturday, and at noon, Buffy and Xander showed up at Giles' house. Willow hadn't left. Giles had woken her with the warm scent of French toast at eight. On the days when more than one of the gang crashed in his living room, Giles made waffles. The few times Willow alone had spent the night, it had been French toast. She often wondered if he made the same thing for Xander or Buffy when they alone spent the night, or if each Scoobie got a different breakfast treat. She didn't really care. French toast was a morning ritual with Giles, one that gave her a greater sense of home and family than she'd ever had.  
  
They'd spent the morning in quiet conversation that hadn't included the words vampire, Hellmouth, demon, apocalypse or Spike. Instead they'd talked of Willow's studies and Giles' boredom with his "gentleman of leisure" days, then had a discussion on whether or not Giles should get cable, since his reception was so bad he could only get one channel on his television. Homey.  
  
The arrival of her friends was also familial, but in the chaotic manner of sibling arguments and the all too familiar fight over the donuts that Buffy had brought with her. It didn't last long, as there was a reason they were gathering and it couldn't be avoided.  
  
"Willie's was trashed," Buffy announced suddenly, and everyone stilled before finding a place to settle down. Willow once again curled up on the couch, Xander next to her. Buffy stood in front of them, Giles sitting to her side on an armchair. "He said Spike wrecked the place in a fight with some demon, then they both disappeared. He heard Drusilla's name come up, though," she finished.  
  
Willow quickly bowed her head, because she was sure that her face showed every bit of shock and dismay that she felt. Spike had told her that he hadn't seen Drusilla since he'd failed to convince her to leave Brazil with him, and had disgustedly indicated that he had no interest in seeking her out again for at least another twenty years or so. It wasn't shock that he'd lied to her--she had no illusions that he wouldn't lie to her in a heartbeat--but there hadn't been a *reason* to lie about it.  
  
"Let's not forget the trail of bodies we found. It ended at the 'Now Leaving Sunnydale' sign, which has a big DeSoto sized hole in it," Xander added grimly.  
  
Willow flinched. Spike had been very good about not killing anyone since he'd been blackmailed into helping them. At least, that's what everyone liked to tell themselves. If she wanted to be honest, she had to admit that they all pretty much knew that he'd simply started covering up his kills so that Buffy couldn't connect them to him.  
  
"Yes, well," Giles murmured. "It appears as though he's gone rogue."  
  
"Oh, big surprise there," Xander snapped. "This was definitely not one of your better plans, G-man."  
  
"I didn't see you coming up with anything better, Xander," Giles replied in kind.  
  
Buffy glared at them both, planting her hands on her hips. The men just continued to glare at one another. "Guys, don't start--"  
  
But they weren't listening, and pretty soon Buffy was drawn into the argument as well. Willow stayed on the sofa, eyes closed, as she listened to them all slapping blame on everyone else in the room without acknowledging that they also were guilty of participating in the scheme.  
  
Eventually, Willow couldn't take anymore. "Stop it, all of you," she shouted, jumping to her feet and putting her best teacher impersonation on her face. The one that their Global Studies teacher, Mrs. Henkel, used to wear when the class was being childish.  
  
They all shut their mouths, but the annoyed glares remained on their faces. "Thank you. Okay, so where is this argument getting us?" No one answered, and Willow folded her arms under her breasts. "Hm?"  
  
"Nowhere," Buffy grumbled, looking down at her feet.  
  
"Xander? Giles?" Willow urged.  
  
The men exchanged glances, then Xander tossed his hands in the air in a gesture of surrender while Giles sighed. "Nowhere," they said in unison.  
  
"Very well," Giles muttered, removing his glasses to clean them. He cleared his throat. "We, er, have to decide if we should restore Spike's soul," he continued.  
  
Willow watched as Buffy and Xander each raised one hand high in the air, as if a vote had been called and they were for it. Giles caught Willow's eyes with his own, and she nodded.  
  
"Right then," Giles said decisively. "Willow, you'll need to consult the spell and gather the necessary components. We'll do it tomorrow, I think."  
  
"Yeah, because who knows what kind of Spike-like fun we might interrupt right now," Xander drawled in a hard voice.  
  
Giles stared at the boy in exasperation. "Willow performed the spell once, and it was several years ago, Xander. She will need time to familiarize herself with the ritual again. Might I also point out that Willow seems to be rather fatigued? Performing the ritual takes a bit out of her, if you recall," he added pointedly.  
  
Xander had the good grace to look a little ashamed of himself. "She doesn't have to be the one to do it, though," he pushed on.  
  
"True," Buffy agreed readily, a glint in her eyes. "I volunteer you, Xander. You can chant for almost an hour on end, then have Spike's soul pass through your body, and maybe end up in a coma or something. Let's get started."  
  
"Tomorrow it is then," Xander chirped immediately.  
  
Giles smirked at having at least won that argument, and Willow managed a small smile.  
  
"Go home," Buffy instructed Willow. "Read the gypsy words, gather the stinky herbs. Get some sleep so that you can be bright-eyed bushy-tailed Willow for the cursing tomorrow."  
  
"Sounds like fun," Willow responded, not sure what emotion was in her voice, but positive that it wasn't anticipation.  
  
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Willow felt a hand on her shoulder, shaking her, and frowned. There was no hint of light behind her closed lids and she didn't want to wake up when it was still dark. She'd been pleasantly surprised to get to sleep before midnight that night, after having spent her day and evening reviewing the spell and gathering the ingredients. She was not going to wake up before dawn. Uh-uh.  
  
"Go 'way," she mumbled in annoyance.  
  
"Wake up, we don't have much time."  
  
Willow's eyes flew open and she saw Spike standing above her, something strapped to his back. She stared, frozen beneath her cocoon of blankets on her small dorm bed. The lights weren't on, and the only illumination in the room came from the full moon shining through the open curtains.  
  
"What's going on?" Willow asked him flatly, her hand surreptitiously latching onto the stake she had slept with since shortly after meeting Buffy Summers. Buffy. Willow's head snapped to the side, staring at the sleeping form of her roommate. She squinted slightly in the dim light and saw not one, but two tranquilizer darts in Buffy's neck. Her hand clenched on the stake as she looked at Spike again, realizing that it was Buffy's tranq gun that was slung across his back.  
  
His features were impossible to make out, cast of shadows and gleaming patches of pale skin. Willow felt herself collapse inwards, until only a shell of herself was laying on her bed with Spike towering over her. "What did you do?"  
  
She watched his hand run through his hair, heard a muttered curse. "We don't have time for a bleedin' q and a session. You've got to hurry." When she didn't move, Spike kicked out at the box spring of her bed. Willow flinched. "Damn it, if I was gonna kill the Slayer, she'd be dead, not tranqued, all right? And if I was bloody gonna tranq you, you wouldn't be sitting there talking to me, no doubt holding a freaking stake under your My Little Pony bankie."  
  
Stupidly, Willow glanced at her comforter, in case the Hellmouth had actually turned it into a My Little Pony and Friends relic from the past. No, still a nice flower pattern.  
  
Spike didn't seem inclined to say anything else but his patience was still lacking, and he eventually snorted harshly. "Something's happened, and someone might die," he said in a blank voice that didn't hold the urgency that would normally imbue a person's words while saying a sentence like that.  
  
Again Willow understood that she had never seen the vampire above her. What had happened to bring out these previously unseen facets of his personality? "Why did you sedate Buffy?"  
  
"Because Peaches threatened to pay me back for the torture session I gave him if I hurt the bitch. Now get the fuck up and get dressed."  
  
Angel? Ange?!? Willow blinked rapidly not knowing what could possibly be going on that would get Angel to not only refrain from staking Spike, but grant him permission to tranquilize Buffy. She didn't have time to ponder it, as Spike reached out and ripped the covers off of her. Willow scurried back and up, until she had her back was against the wall behind her bed, and brandished her stake.  
  
Then she slammed her eyes shut when he turned on her bedside light. Which was really a stupid thing to do, considering who was towering over her. She forced her eyes open, surprised to see that Spike was simply standing there, looking down at her with empty eyes.  
  
"You're coming to L.A. with me," he told her bluntly. "The bloody Poof is waiting."  
  
He eyes widened impossibly. "Explain," she squeaked, hating the sound almost as much as the way she'd begun shaking.  
  
Spike shook his head. "Lives depend on it. Mine, Angel's, Drusilla's, and someone else's. Yours, too. I'll tell you everything on the way to Giles'," he said, holding his hand out to her.  
  
Ignoring it, she pulled her knees to her chest and tried to breathe normally. She knew the fear, the terror, was flowing from her in great waves, but could do nothing to lessen it. All she could remember was the last time Spike had been in her dorm room, when he'd tried to kill her but found that he couldn't. There was no chip now.  
  
She fell off the bed, not having realized that she'd been moving more and more away from him until she landed on the floor.  
  
"Fuck, Willow, stop with the bloody melodrama!"  
  
His hand was on her wrist, and he pulled her to her feet with little effort. Before Willow knew what he was doing, the stake was out of her hand. He tossed it to a far corner of the room, his hand tightening its hold on her wrist. His free hand grabbed her chin, lifting it up before he leaned down until they were almost nose-to-nose.  
  
"Listen closely," he hissed. "You are my only hope right now. That means I can't kill you even if I wanted to. But that doesn't mean I won't sedate you and drag you out of here if I have to. Got it?"  
  
The phone rang and Willow's knees gave out. Spike kept her upright, shifting his hold on her so that one arm was wrapped around her back, and the other was reaching for the phone. He lifted the received and put it to her ear.  
  
To her disbelief, it was Angel's voice that Willow heard through the receiver. "Hello? Willow? Hello?"  
  
"Answer him," Spike ordered her.  
  
"Angel?" she whispered, her eyes locked on Spike's.  
  
"Yes, it's me. Is Spike there yet?" Angel asked urgently.  
  
"Uh, yeah," she answered, her voice laced with confusion. "Are you evil again?"  
  
That made Spike grin, and she knew him again and wondered if everything was okay. Then the grin disappeared and he was once more a stranger.  
  
"Damn it, no," Angel snapped.  
  
"Then why did you tell Spike it was okay to shoot Buffy with the tranquilizer gun?"  
  
"Good, he didn't hurt her," Angel said, sounding relieved. "Listen, do you trust me, Willow?"  
  
"Not if you're evil, no," Willow said honestly. "And I think you might be."  
  
Spike pushed Willow until her knees bumped against the bed, then pressed down on her shoulders until she was sitting. Her hand moved instinctively to hold the phone to her ear, and he went to her dresser and began searching through the drawers. *One problem at a time, Will, one problem at a time.*  
  
"Okay, fine. Do you think Cordelia would lie to you about me being evil?"  
  
Willow narrowed her eyes at that. There was no way in Hell Cordy would lie about something like that. There was also no way Angelus could keep her from knowing that Angel was no longer around. It would be impossible, considering that she'd spent over a year in Angel's company.  
  
"I'd believe you weren't evil if Cordelia told me you weren't," she said cautiously.  
  
"Fine, hold on and I'll get her," Angel said, resigned.  
  
While Willow waited, her eyes followed Spike as he tossed some of her clothes into a pile in the middle of the room. Then he went to her closet and emerged with a small overnight bag. The clothes were unceremoniously shoved in it. "Where's your witchy stuff?" he asked, one of her bras in his hand.  
  
Blushing, Willow looked away and didn't answer.  
  
"Cor, you are too stubborn," he growled. "Put these on."  
  
A pair of jeans, a black angora sweater hit her in the face then fell to the floor. She ignored Spike and the clothes and he growled again.  
  
"Willow?"  
  
It sounded like Cordelia was crying, and Wilow's heart stopped beating for a second before it began racing. "Is he evil, Cordy?" she cried out.  
  
"No, Willow, he's not," the former cheerleader answered around a sob. "Wesley, back off, I'm fine, all right?"  
  
"What's going on?" Willow asked softly.  
  
"it's--She--I can't. Take the phone Angel, I can't," she sobbed.  
  
Angel's voice again, sounding tired. "You convinced?" he asked.  
  
Willow cleared her throat. "Yeah."  
  
"Good, because I want you to go with Spike. Whatever he asks you to do, do it. I know you're worried, but you have to trust me on this," Angel pleaded.  
  
"Call me back in five minutes," Willow responded, leaning over to hang up the phone. Spike was still by her dresser, still staring at her. Willow closed her eyes and forced her mind to think, to process, to figure out what to do.  
  
Spike and Angel.it was no secret that there was no love lost there. Which left her completely stumped for a reason why they were working together. Deciding to focus on the facts, she knew for sure, Willow changed her thought track.  
  
She thought of Buffy, out like a light when she could have been dead. Of herself, still awake and alive, despite having seriously pissed Spike off. Of Angel, trusting Spike after having been tortured for the Gem of Amarra. Of Cordelia's distress and assurance that Angel was not Angelus. Then she thought of Spike, and how he'd been so different since that phone call.  
  
Something clicked. She stood up and went to her bedside table. In the drawer was Spike's cell phone. She turned it on and pressed several buttons until she was at the listing of recent calls. There it was, in glowing LED. Friday evening. Around seven o'clock. The call that had sent Spike packing. She stared at the number.  
  
"Angel was the one who called you," she stated.  
  
"Yes."  
  
After she'd restored Angel's soul Willow had been in bad shape. The spell had drained her mentally and physically, and it had been weeks before she'd recovered fully. She remembered one night, when she'd been too weak to climb out of the hospital bed to use the bathroom, when she'd asked herself why she'd put herself through all of it.  
  
In answer, she had reminded herself of all the times Angel had helped them, saved them. She'd been stunned to realize that the instances were so many that she kept losing count when she'd tried to put a number to them. That, she'd told herself, was why she'd done it.  
  
And that number had risen, not only because of his visit to them last Thanksgiving, when he'd helped them and saved them again, but because of what he must have done for Cordelia in the past year. Bad times aside, Willow still considered Cordy one of theirs.  
  
"In the trunk by the closet," Willow said to Spike quickly.  
  
He nodded once and went to it, opening the lid as the phone rang again. "How long will I be in Los Angeles?" she said by way of greeting.  
  
Angel was silent for a moment. "Bring enough for a week."  
  
She saw Spike look in the trunk, which held her "witchy stuff", then at the overnight bag. With a shrug he zipped the bag, tossed it onto the lid, then carried the trunk to the door and set it down.  
  
"They're going to think he kidnapped me," Willow said uncertainly, sagging back onto the bed. "And why did he say we were going to Giles' place?"  
  
"There's no way around it," Angel apologized. "No one can know that either of you are coming here. And you're going to Giles' because he has a copy of the restoration spell."  
  
Willow sucked in a huge breath. "The restoration spell."  
  
"I'm not asking you to destroy it, Willow," he said quickly. "Just gather all the copies and put them someplace they can't find them until you come back."  
  
A sudden surge of insight flashed through her mind, and Willow knew that Angel's choice of words when she'd asked him how long she'd be in L.A. had been deliberate. Bring enough for a week, he'd said. Not, you'll be here for a week.  
  
"Why would you ask me to do that?" she choked. "Why do you want me to put them through that?"  
  
In the background, she heard Cordelia yelling at Wesley again, something about tea, and then more crying. "It's complicated," Angel said absently, "and we don't have much time right now. But we can't let them restore Spike's soul."  
  
Willow looked at Spike and gestured at her computer. She mimed pushing a button and taking something out. He strode to the computer and instantly removed the disk that was inside. Then he looked down at it. Willow held her breath, not hearing what Angel was saying to her. She waited. She saw Spike look upwards, his hand slapping the disk against his leg. And he was moving abruptly, towards her. The disk was shoved into her hand and then he was at the door, standing beside the trunk and tellingly not looking at her.  
  
"Willow!?"  
  
"I'll get dressed and then we'll leave," she told Angel decisively. "Talk to Spike. Tell him we do this my way or no way at all."  
  
"Wait."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Spike's not entirely rational right now," Angel admitted. As if she hadn't already noticed that. "If he starts his usual crap, don't take it. We need you and he knows it."  
  
"Fine."  
  
She dropped the phone to the bed and Spike crossed the room, grumbling. Willow gathered the clothes he'd tossed at her, listening with half an ear while Spike snarled at Angel, then shut his mouth.  
  
Willow pulled the closet door open and moved behind it, so that she was between it and the wall, and Spike's couldn't see her. As quickly as she could, she changed out of her pajamas. He hadn't thrown socks or shoes, so she gathered them for herself and put them on. After a moment's thought, she went to the bag he'd packed and unzipped it, scanning the contents. The clothes he'd packed included seven flimsy shirts that she generally wore to the Bronze, and two long skirts. There were no less than eight bras in the bag, and he hadn't included any panties.  
  
Shaking her head, she went to the dresser and picked out more appropriate clothing. Comfy jeans and shirts that she could move easily in. Bras that were more supportive than decorative. Underwear. Socks. She also grabbed the toiletry basket that sat on top of her dresser.  
  
Ignoring the overnight case, she reached under her bed for a small suitcase and placed her clothing choices in there. The phone slammed down and she figured Spike was done listening to Angel.  
  
"What are you doing?" he snapped at her.  
  
"Packing," she answered shortly. "Unplug my laptop and put it in the case next to my desk."  
  
"I'm not the freaking bell hop, you know."  
  
Willow grabbed several pairs of sneakers from the closet and put them in the suitcase. "We only have--" she looked at the digital clock next to Buffy's bed. Two o'clock. Great, she'd gotten barely three hours of sleep "- -four hours to do what we need to in Sunnydale and get to L.A. before dawn."  
  
He hissed at her but packed up the laptop anyway. Willow critically eyed the assortment of clothes she'd packed, realized she had forgotten pajamas, added them to the case and zipped it shut.  
  
"For the love of--come on already," Spike shouted in exasperation as she went to her desk.  
  
"Sorry, need to get the restoration spell before we leave," she mumbled as she dug through her desk drawer.  
  
"What the hell did you have me get out of the computer for you then?" he asked dangerously.  
  
"I'm not sure really," she said with a shrug as she finally found the disk and slipped it into the back pocket of her jeans. "I think it was my history report."  
  
Tic-tic-tic went his jaw, and Willow stared him down.  
  
"It was a test, then?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
"If I hadn't given it to you.?"  
  
The stake that had been in the corner of the room flew through the air and came to a rest in Willow's hand. She tucked it at the small of her back.  
  
"Let's go."  
  
~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^ 


	2. Part 2

Willow stared at the Now Leaving Sunnydale sign as Spike steered the car out of Sunnydale. Xander had been right about the hole in it. Certainly was DeSoto sized.  
  
"Look, I'll tell you what's going on, all right?" Spike said abruptly.  
  
Turning slightly, she fumbled in the back seat until she felt her laptop case and then blindly searched the pockets until she found her CD player.  
  
"Stop your bloody moping," Spike said harshly as he lit a cigarette and pressed down on the accelerator. "They'll wake up with a headache, and they'll be fine."  
  
In response, Willow put her headphones on and pressed play. What had she had in there the last time she'd used it? Rasputina? Poe? Ahh, Barenaked Ladies. Gordon. Perfect distracting music. It would take her mind from the fact that the plan she'd come up with to get Giles' copy of the spell had been for her to ring the doorbell, and Spike to tranq him when he'd come to the door.  
  
The car sped up even more and Willow wisely refrained from looking at the speedometer. She turned the volume up on the CD player and sighed. All copies of the spell were now safely ensconced in her parents' house. Considering the fact that her parents were out of the country on vacation for the next several months, no vampire would be able to get in by charming an invite out of them. Clearing her mind of any further thoughts, Willow leaned against the seat and shut her eyes, listening to the music.  
  
Twenty minutes later Willow reluctantly took her headphones off and tossed the player into the backseat. She looked at Spike, noticing the two crumpled cigarette packs on his lap, and the third freshly opened one in his hand. Chain smoking. Lovely.  
  
"Oh, I see," he drawled around the cigarette he was lighting when he noticed her staring at him expectantly. "You're ready to listen, so I should start talking. Yeah, right. Put a quarter in me and I play a song."  
  
Willow felt a good old dose of anger hit her in the face. "Shut up, Spike," she snapped. The car swerved before he grabbed the wheel and righted it, staring at her with wide eyes. "I've barely slept in the past two days and I'm tired. So excuse me if I needed twenty minutes to process it all."  
  
Spike pulled the car over on the shoulder of the road and killed the engine. He shifted in his seat and pinned her with eyes that were once again empty. "You think you're the only one whose life has hit the shitter recently, eh?" he growled. "Yours has been a fucking cakewalk compared to others', pet, so suck it up."  
  
"You're a fine one to talk," she shouted at him. A part of her insisted it was *so* very not smart to antagonize him, but a bigger part of her obviously had a death wish and didn't listen. "Your coping mechanism consisted of choking Buffy, starting a bar fight, partaking of a bloodbath, driving through a highway sign, threatening me in my dorm room and God only knows what else. But I listen to a CD and *I'm* the one who should suck it up?"  
  
"Hey," he spluttered. "When you put it that way, it sounds like I'm being irrational And I'm not. So take it back."  
  
She laughed. She couldn't help it. She was cranky from lack of sleep, and there was Spike, face scrunched up indignantly, ridiculous Spike-logic spewing from his proud mouth, and an inch of ash dangling from his cigarette. He glared at her, and then into his eyes crept a small sliver of amusement that caused him to chuckle slightly with her. A moment later he tossed his cigarette out the window and rested his head against the steering wheel.  
  
Willow took a deep breath. Time was dwindling, and if they didn't get moving again even Spike wouldn't be able to drive fast enough to get them to Angel's before sunrise. "Drive and tell me," she said thickly. "Chop chop."  
  
"Chop chop," Spike echoed as he started the car again. "Right."  
  
They drove a few miles before Spike starting talking. "Ever hear of the Amalgamated?"  
  
She shook her head, twisting in the seat so that she could look at him. "Is it a demon?" she asked.  
  
"No, it's a vampire," he corrected her as he changed lanes. Willow grabbed the dashboard at the sudden motion and wondered why he bothered to keep the mirrors attached to the car if he didn't use them. "Creature of prophecy, actually. One vampire. Three sires."  
  
"Three sires," she repeated slowly. Spike had mentioned lives were at stake earlier. "You, Angel and Drusilla," she breathed in realization. "You sired the Amalgamated."  
  
"Yeah," he said with a sharp nod. "*After* the Poof got his soul back, Drusilla dragged us to some pregnant woman she'd found. She'd drained the woman, but the babe had been birthed. Screaming up a bloody storm, the brat was." Willow watched him light another cigarette and exhale a lungful of smoke.  
  
"Drusilla wanted to turn the brat. The Poof was horrified." He paused and snorted. "Should've been my first clue that he wasn't Angelus. Anyway, I wasn't too thrilled with the idea. It was just repulsive. Taking care of some squalling infant until Dru got bored and I had to kill the thing." He shivered.  
  
"What happened?" Willow asked.  
  
"Drusilla drained the kid," Spike informed her bluntly. "Then she slashed her wrist open. Peaches and I grabbed her, and we all fought. Blood got drawn on all of us, and somehow, I still don't understand exactly how, little bugger got some of each of us." He clenched his jaw. "It was turned."  
  
"A baby vampire," Willow choked out, sickened by the very thought of it.  
  
"No, but I'll get to that," he said severely, and his hands were tighter than they needed to be on the steering wheel, Willow noticed. "The Poof and I decided to kill the baby. Couldn't do it."  
  
"Couldn't do it. You felt.bad?" she ventured in confusion, but she knew that couldn't be the reason. The Scourges of Europe? Feeling Bad? Did not compute.  
  
Spike snorted. "Hell no. We physically couldn't. Our bodies wouldn't do what we told them to do. We stayed at the cottage we were in and tried to figure out what to do. Drusilla was having a blast, playing with the little girl, and talking nonsense." He stopped and rubbed his forehead. "We went to sleep, and when we woke up the girl was half grown."  
  
"Oh," Willow exclaimed, her brow wrinkled.  
  
"The next night, she was an adult," Spike continued lowly. "Drusilla said the stars had talked to her, had told her about the girl. Poof recognized the prophecy."  
  
"What did it say?" Willow asked curiously.  
  
Spike shrugged, staring at the road and not looking at her. "Eh, bunch of fancy words for something simple. Said we couldn't kill her, that she wouldn't kill us. Said she got my demon, Dru's psychic gifts, and Peaches' soul." He rolled his eyes. "Of course, he didn't feel inclined to tell us that part of it at the time. No, he insisted she'd gotten his mind and the soul was just a bonus."  
  
Willow did a passable imitation of a fish, with her mouth opening and closing in shock. "So she's an insane you-wannabe with a soul?" she gasped.  
  
"No, she's not a me-wannabe, she's not Dru's crazy little minion, and she's not a brooding wanker, either," he snapped angrily. The car swerved to yet another lane and barely missed side-swiping a blue Cadillac, whose driver honked at them. "Blow it out your arse," he snarled out the window, then flickered his eyes in Willow's direction. "She's Dev, all right. Just Dev."  
  
"Dev?" Willow echoed, treading carefully.  
  
"Dru named her Devil," he explained, something in his voice telling Willow that he knew just how screwy a name it was, but that most anything Drusilla had done was still remembered fondly. Spike definitely had her beat when it came to the messed up love life. "No one calls her that, though. 'Cept Dru, of course."  
  
"An Angel and a Devil," Willow muttered weakly. "Uh, cute."  
  
It was starting to make sense to her. Something had happened to this vampire named Dev, and Spike was none too pleased about it. She'd witnessed and heard about some of the lengths he'd gone to for Drusilla when they'd been together. It stood to reason that Dev garnered the same feelings in him.  
  
Willow tucked her hair behind her ears and said simply, "Then tell me what she *is* like," in a voice that did its best not to actually make him focus on her, but rather on what she wanted to know. It worked.  
  
"Dev gets the visions and crap, yeah, but Drusilla wasn't insane until Angelus got his hands on her," Spike told her, his voice similar to how hers had been, in that he wasn't really talking to Willow, he was just talking. "And yeah, Peaches stuck her with a soul, but she didn't do anything she feels the need to brood about. As for the demon, well, it's definitely mine, but the soul keeps it reigned in, unfortunately."  
  
"Well," Willow replied, closing her eyes. "That makes sense in a freaky, Hellmouthy, otherworldly way." Her eyes flew open as a thought occurred to her. "Happiness clause?"  
  
"We don't think it applies."  
  
"But you don't know for sure?" Willow pushed.  
  
He looked at her, one eyebrow quirked. "How can we, hm?" he asked sardonically. "Made the beast with two backs. Soul's still there. But just because that was the trigger for Nancy Boy doesn't mean there's no clause. Gotta have hope, I say."  
  
"Hope. Right," Willow drawled, leaning against the passenger side door and tucked one leg under her. It wasn't the safest position to be in should they have an accident, but the DeSoto didn't have seatbelts, so there actually wasn't a safe position in it. "So Dev grew up over the course of two nights, and then what?"  
  
"She pretty much did her own thing," Spike responded diffidently. "Spent time with me and Drusilla, spent time with the Poof. Never got involved in our fights, though how she bloody managed that is a miracle. Lives independent of us, but keeps in contact." He looked at Willow, smiling slightly. "Actually, she came to Sunnyhell a while back. After Angelus returned," he clarified with a nasty snicker. "Wanted to meet the wanker, and she wasn't all that impressed."  
  
Willow fell silent as she digested everything he'd told her and left Spike to testing the limits of the DeSoto. She didn't say anything until the dashboard starting humming slightly as the car reached its sympathetic vibration point. Once again she ignored the urge to check their speed. This next question was going to incite him again, but there was no getting around it.  
  
"What happened to Dev?" she whispered gently.  
  
Spike hissed and clenched his fist on the steering wheel. A deep growl issued from his throat and Willow's heart jumped in her chest.  
  
Tictictictictic settled down to its normal tic-tic-tic and his hands loosened their murderous grip on the steering wheel. "You know how the Slayer has the damned Codex of prophecies?" Willow nodded but he didn't see it. He went on anyway. "Dev's got something similar called the Analects. We didn't want her targeted because of them, so we kept her existence a secret."  
  
"If she was made, and is important enough to have an entire Codex of her own," Willow said slowly, her mind trying to wrap itself around what he'd said, "how can no one realize she exists?"  
  
Spike looked at her quietly, a hard edge in his gaze. Willow frowned, then her face cleared. "You guys all made sure no one knew," she realized, blanching. "You did...things, to make sure. Oh boy."  
  
"Even Angel," he added. Willow realized that was the only time during this conversation he hadn't referred to the elder vampire by his given name. Did he reserve saying Angel for times when he respected him? That was filed away for future consideration.  
  
Silence fell briefly and then Spike started speaking again. "Dev showed up at Peaches' on Thursday, just before sunrise," he growled. "She'd bloody crawled on her hands and knees from who the hell knows where. She'd been tortured near to death." He stopped. "Takes a lot to bring a vampire to that point," he muttered flatly.  
  
There was distress on his pale features. At least, that's what she assumed it was, never having seen him display that particular emotion. But she thought it was distress that had both his brows lowered and his mouth stretched into a thin line.  
  
"Will she be okay?"  
  
"No. Passed out the second she saw Angel, and hasn't woken since. She needs sire's blood, because her damn healing is under too much strain, and only a combination of all of our blood counts. That's why we couldn't let my soul be restored; her body didn't recognize Angelus' blood back when she was in Sunnydale, and we figure it works the other way as well."  
  
All of their blood.which explained why Spike had been in Willy's asking about Drusilla.  
  
"Spike." He looked at her and only turned his eyes away when the car began drifting yet again. "Why am I on my way to L.A.?"  
  
"Drusilla is already there," he said flatly. "She had a vision and you were in it. You saved Dev."  
  
"I--uh--well--oh wow," Willow stammered, sinking back into the seat.  
  
"Yeah, that about sums it up," Spike bit out.  
  
~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^  
  
Once again she was woken up by Spike. Willow blinked sleepily, noticing that they were in the small parking area under Angel's building. "Fell asleep?" she mumbled, staring around in confusion.  
  
"Yeah. We hit traffic as soon as we got into town and it's only half an hour until dawn. Come on, in we go."  
  
Willow stumbled from the car and tried to clear away the sleep cobwebs from her mind but wasn't very successful. It was only when Spike grabbed her suitcase from the trunk of the DeSota that she woke up and remembered everything he'd told her.  
  
"Shoot," she sighed, crawling back into the car and getting her CD player and laptop from the backseat. She slung the case over her shoulder and slammed the car door shut.  
  
Willow dawdled for a moment, gathering her resolve. She wanted to jump into the car and speed back to Sunnydale, far away from the injured vampire she was supposed to save. Actually, she wanted to be *anywhere* but there. Looking at Spike, she realized he was feeling something similar. His eyes were on the car and he seemed just as reluctant to go into the building as she was.  
  
One hand was holding both the side handle of her trunk and the handle of her suitcase. The trunk would drag on the ground when he started walking, she found herself thinking inanely. Then he motioned her forward with his free hand, still looking away.  
  
They turned and walked across the concrete to the back entrance of Angel's office. Spike opened the door and shoved her behind him when a crossbow appeared.  
  
"Put that damned thing down, you stupid sod," Spike snapped.  
  
The crossbow lowered and Willow saw Angel step fully into the doorway, staring from Spike to her and back again. "You all right?"  
  
"Fine. Can we come in now?" she asked wearily.  
  
Angel stepped aside and led them into the front office. Wesley was there, behind one of two desks that had seen better days. There was a mug in front of him, tea she assumed at first, but then she got a look of his eyes and thought something stronger might be in there. Cordelia was nowhere to be seen.  
  
"Willow," Wesley greeted softly. Willow nodded at him then dropped her laptop case on the empty desk. Spike had deposited her trunk and suitcase in a corner and was leaning against a wall, not looking at anyone. Willow walked to a ratty looking sofa and sank down into it, shifting uncomfortably on the exposed springs.  
  
Angel sat behind the unoccupied desk and stared at Spike until the blond vampire looked up. "Did you tell her?" he asked.  
  
"Yes, he told me," Willow answered tightly. Now that her mind was back on track, Willow recalled the thoughts she'd been going over before she'd fallen asleep. "But he left some things out. Didn't you, Spike?" She saw Spike smile, a small little stretching of his lips that didn't make it to his eyes. Angel turned at her, a bit of surprised evident on his face.  
  
"Told you everything you wanted to know, pet," Spike replied smoothly.  
  
"Yeah, but you didn't tell me anything I didn't ask."  
  
"Want me to tell you now?" he said softly, and she shook her head. No, he was still too emotionally volatile for her liking.  
  
She faced the other vampire in the room. "No, I want Angel to tell me."  
  
"What do you want to know?" Angel asked quietly.  
  
"I want to know who did that to her and why." The hypothesis Willow had formed on the drive over was confirmed by Angel's silence. "You have no idea." He shook his head slightly. "But you think it has to do with that Codex-like book of prophecies about her." Angel nodded, the surprised look returning to his face. "You sent Cordelia away and you're going to send Wesley away. You want me to do research duty."  
  
The silence was broken by Spike's sharp bark of laughter. "Told you not to bother easing her into it, that she'd figure it out on her own right away."  
  
Willow felt something in her...not snap, but bend almost to breaking. "And what are the rest of you going to be doing while I'm figuring everything out and saving some vampire I don't even know?" she exploded hysterically. "Arguing like children and beating each other up? 'Cause I definitely don't see either of you behaving like adults, that's for sure. And how the heck am I supposed to do any of those things, anyway? Because I have no idea, and it's obvious that the rest of you don't either, but did that stop you from dragging me out of my bed in the middle of the night? Nooooo. Of course not. Because it's all right, Willow can figure it all out. Right. Easy as pie. Wait a second while I pull all the answers out of my--"  
  
She stopped abruptly, clamping her mouth shut and biting her lip. Angel flinched and looked away. Wesley's bleary face was filled with sympathy. Spike's expression was...amused.  
  
"Done with the hissy fit?" he asked blandly.  
  
"Spike!" Angel snapped angrily.  
  
Willow deflated, sagging against the cushions uncomfortably. "Yeah," she muttered quietly. "I'm done."  
  
"Good," Spike said approvingly and came to sit next to her on the couch. He punched her on the shoulder lightly and nodded.  
  
Willow felt like telling him she wasn't a dog, to be praised in such a way, but she really didn't have the energy. Instead, she settled on a half- hearted glare that made him chuckle.  
  
"You're really tired aren't you?" he remarked. "Didn't even give me a not- so-snappy comeback." He rolled his eyes in disgust and she roused herself enough to elbow him in the gut.  
  
"I need to wash up," Willow muttered. "Road grime. Where's the bathroom?"  
  
Angel pointed towards the back, and Willow went in that direction, finding the small bathroom tucked away in the corner of the back room. Inside she turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on her face several times before bracing her hands on the sink and taking several deep breaths. Her head lifted and she stared at herself in the mirror.  
  
There were dark circles under her eyes and her face was paler than normal. She also saw that her features were drawn, the skin seemingly stretched too tightly across her bones.  
  
"Okay, this will not do," she told her reflection. "You *are* research girl and you can help them find out what happened. Relax. I know you have no idea about the other part, but you will. Okay? You'll get some details about Dru's vision and you'll know what to do. Trust me on this. I know me. Granted, Buffy isn't here with the Slayer powers. And, sure, Giles--who is way more reasearchy than you--isn't here either. And it's obvious there will be *no* comic relief without Xander. But, you've got.Angel. And Spike. And Dru. And a vampire that's at death's door."  
  
As pep talks went, it wasn't really peppy. She tried again.  
  
"It's not entirely hopeless. Really."  
  
That was so far from better that it was actually a worse effort.  
  
"Shut up," she snapped at the mirror. "I don't see you doing any better."  
  
She turned the water off and dried her face and hands on the towel next to the sink. Groaning hugely, she left the bathroom and went back to the office, only to come to a sudden halt at the doorway. Angel was an inch from Spike's face, glowering at the sneering blond.  
  
"What's going on?" Willow asked incredulously.  
  
Spike's head swiveled in her direction and his eyes narrowed before he smiled a bit and stepped away from Angel to sit on the couch again. "Nothing," he said casually.  
  
Willow raised a brow and leaned against the doorway. She looked from his too-casual face, to Angel's glare. "You're ticcing," Willow told Spike, "and Angel looks like he wants to get all grr and beat you up. What's up?"  
  
"Why don't you tell me," Angel said immediately, turning that probing gaze on her again. Did they remember that she, as a lowly human, did not function well without sleep?  
  
"What are you talking about?"  
  
Angel pointed at her. "You." He pointed at Spike. "And him. What's going on with the two of you?"  
  
Willow felt her eyes doing a weird bugging-out thing as she stared at Angel in disbelief. "You think there's something going on with me and Spike? Me and Spike!?"  
  
The look Angel gave her was so patronizing that she wanted to smack him. Yes, she was really too tired for this. "You two seem.comfortable with each other."  
  
Willow waited, but Angel didn't say anything else. "And?" she prompted. He still didn't say anything and she rolled her eyes. "Don't tell me that you think we're making with the wild monkey sex because we're not at each other's throats?"  
  
She saw the flicker of uncertainty arrive on his face at the same time that she heard Spike snort. Shaking her head, Willow sat back down, her eyes touching on Spike as she did so. Her and Spike. Yeah, right.  
  
"Angel, Spike's been working with us for months now," she explained impatiently.  
  
"I know, and I've heard about how *well* it's going. So why are you two so chummy?" Angel demanded.  
  
"Chummy?" Willow and Spike repeated simultaneously, her sounding shocked and him sounding disgusted.  
  
"We're so not chummy!" Willow insisted hotly. Then she frowned and looked at Spike. "We're not, are we? 'Cause, I was going for non-arguing and non- violent."  
  
"And you succeeded," Spike assured her, glaring at Angel. "Look, you stupid wanker, the only thing going on with us is a mutual state of ignoring each other as much as possible. It works well so stay out of it."  
  
Angel had something to say to that, Spike had a reply, and Willow leaned back and closed her eyes. Apparently, vampires had testosterone, and it was thick in the air tonight.  
  
~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^  
  
Spike felt Willow slump against him and broke off in the middle of his latest insult, looking down at the redheaded woman that had fallen asleep. In the space of five minutes with two vampires yelling at each other at the top of their lungs in the same room.  
  
"We need to keep a careful eye on her," Spike said suddenly. He was too drained to keep the argument going. They weren't even arguing about anything, really, just doing it for its own sake. "Drusilla smelled her on me after that mess with the love spell," he explained.  
  
"Hell," Angel said in horror. "Will she..."  
  
Spike shrugged, his face hard. "She understands that Will is Dev's best chance, and you know she'd walk into the sun before hurting Dev. But, there is the whole insanity thing. You got some place she can sleep?" he asked, motioning at Willow.  
  
"My apartment, but I'll need to get Dru out of there first." Apparently Angel had also realized there was no point to the fight.  
  
"Take her for a walk," Spike suggested, standing carefully so as not to wake Willow. "Let her see the stars. Maybe they'll bloody tell her something that might actually be useful to this mess."  
  
Angel nodded, then went to lure Dru out of the building. Spike bent at the waist and picked Willow up. She murmured in her sleep, but didn't wake. Hell. If only two days of stress had taken this kind of toll on her, what would the coming days--and weeks, he admitted harshly to himself--do to her? Shit, the Slayer was going to torture him before she plunged the nearest phallic symbol into his chest.  
  
"You two are cute."  
  
Spike turned, glaring at the half drunk ex-Watcher, who was leaning against a wall near the door. The amused look on Wesley's face brought a growl to Spike's throat. Wesley's eyes widened, and he seemed to be trying to push himself through the wall behind him. But then Willow stirred and Spike looked down to see a frown marring her brow, and her hands shifting restlessly. He stopped growling, and Wesley's expressing shifted back into amused.  
  
"Wipe that smile off your face," Spike said quietly, almost pleasantly. "Before I do it myself. I need a pair of rogue demon hunter lips to complete my collection of loser body parts."  
  
Wesley chuckled, folding his arms across his chest and looking smugly at Willow like a damned drunk imbecile, puffed up with his own importance at having joined the help the freaking helpless squad. "That might upset her, so I don't think you will."  
  
Spike curled his lip. "For now. But when this is all done, there won't be a reason not to cut you up into little pieces and feed them to Priwol demons."  
  
The annoying Brit titled his head, studying Spike carefully. "Why do you care about upsetting her at all?"  
  
Shifting Willow in his arms, Spike rolled his eyes. "Because, you stupid feeb, it'll be just one more excuse for the bitch Slayer to dust me. Not even sure I'll be able to come out of this without that happening as it is, but I'm not taking any chances."  
  
With that, Spike turned and took the stairs to Angel's apartment. Once there, he settled Willow on the more comfortable sofa, then went into Angel's bedroom for a blanket. That was where they'd set Dev up, in Angel's bed.  
  
He stopped at Dev's side, staring down at her. She was lying on her stomach now; Angel must have shifted her since Spike had left for Sunnydale. He focused on her face, thinking that he wouldn't be able to keep himself under control if his eyes traveled over her brutalized body. Her face was bad, but not as horrible as the rest of her. He could see only one of her eyes, the other was pressed against the pillow under her head. Her aquiline features were twisted in pain, but thankfully no pitiful sounds were issuing from her throat anymore.  
  
Her eyelid flickered, and Spike dropped the blanket he'd been holding. "Dev? Dev?"  
  
Spike almost fell on his arse when her eye opened, wide and unseeing sapphire orb focused on something that wasn't there. She mumbled something, and he strained to hear it. It wasn't English, he realized too late as she stopped talking. Then she blinked, and began again. This time, Spike closed his eyes and listened. Now that he knew it wasn't English, he realized it was Russian.  
  
*Onah mozhyet pomogat menye; ona mozhet spahsat menye. Otraseel, leestya, koryen, kreek, derevo. Onah mozhet pomogat menye; ona mozhet spahsat menye. Ohnee smoteryat. Ohnee zhegyoot ohtbersteeya vo menye es eekh preectaleem vezgelyadome. Ona mozhet pomogat menye; Ona mozhet spahsat vehseh eeznahs.*  
  
As suddenly as her eye opened, it closed again, and Spike stared down at her in a panic. "Damn it, Dev, wake up!" he shouted.  
  
"Spike?"  
  
He froze, turning slowly to see Willow standing in the doorway, blinking sleepily. "Red, go back--"  
  
"I heard you yelling," she mumbled, stepping farther into the room. Spike ran to her, blocking Dev from Willow's view with his body. He put his hands on Willow's shoulders and turned her around roughly, pushing her out of the room.  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
She still didn't seem to be fully awake, which Spike was grateful for. "Nothing, pet. You need more sleep."  
  
"Okay," she murmured, letting him guide her to the sofa and sit her down. She stared up at him, still blinking in slumbered confusion. "Sleep?"  
  
Spike nodded, shifting her around so that she was lying down on the sofa. Almost immediately, she was again asleep. That had been too close, Spike realized. If Willow had seen Dev, seen the devastation that had been visited upon the female vampire, she might freak out. As far as he was concerned, she wasn't going to see it, either. Not if he had anything to do with it. They needed Willow with her wits in tact, or else they were all screwed.  
  
He hurried back into Angel's bedroom, grabbing the blanket he'd dropped and being careful not to look at Dev again. He returned to Willow and covered her with the blanket, then rummaged around in the kitchen for a piece of paper and something to write with. When he'd secured these items, he sat at the table, painstakingly writing out what Dev had said. His spoken Russian wasn't too bad, but writing in Russian was something he'd never much practiced, and it took him a while as he tried to remember the Cyrillic alphabet. Underneath the Russian words, he wrote the translation.  
  
By the time he'd finished, Angel and Dru were back. Wesley came down to let Spike know, and promised he would stay in the apartment to keep an eye on both women, and to make sure the red head didn't get a look at the vampire. Spike took the paper with him as he went upstairs, a grim look on his face.  
  
~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^  
  
Angel waited for Spike, absently keeping an eye on Drusilla. She was twirling around the room, her midnight blue velvet skirt swooshing with the effort, the material lifting and twisting, failing to fall against her legs before she yet again changed direction.  
  
When he looked at her like this, eyes all glittering madness, body sensually undulating, mouth dropped open in supreme enjoyment, he wondered if maybe she wasn't his heaviest load of guilt. If he closed his eyes, he could still see her as she'd been so many years before: sweet, innocent, so easily hurt in so many ways, and waiting for her life to unfold before her. And another image, of the fragile woman she'd become, who had hidden away in a convent and been prepared to give herself over to God to forget what he had done, to escape the truth of what he'd taken from her.  
  
But in front of him was neither of those images. The woman spinning through his office was the product of him ripping her apart, then sewing her back together again in the completely wrong way.  
  
For the thousandth time since Dev had shown up, Angel wished this wasn't happening. Not only because of the state Dev was in, but because of the woman in front of him, and the man who had been her mate for so very long. If Drusilla was his heaviest load of guilt, then Spike was the next heaviest.  
  
And even with the weight of their deeds on his over-burdened shoulders, he'd still missed them. They had been his children. Mischievous and problematic, deadly and unrepentant, but his to teach and provide for, and punish and forgive. It made the antagonism between himself and Spike even harder to bear.  
  
He'd hoped that, with Dev's life on the line, they would be able to at least be civil to one another, but there was too much baggage there. All of it recent. In a way, he wished it could be like it had been the last time the three of them had been together, when they'd sired Dev. Spike and Dru had had no idea that he was no longer Angelus, they'd done nothing to betray him, and there had been no baggage. Just.family.  
  
Cut to Sunnydale, where his family had found out the "awful" truth neither he nor Darla had told them. Mix with a healthy dose of attempted murder, a pinch betrayal, a dash of torture and heaping spoonful of treachery. Cut back to the present, where these same three vampires were being forced to cohabitate. Willow's angry predictions of earlier were a certainty, and unless something was done, he and Spike would be worse than helpless to her.  
  
Speaking of which.  
  
Angel looked up as Spike hurried into the room, thrusting a piece of paper under his nose. "She woke up." Angel flew to his feet, but Spike stopped him, planting a hand in the center of his chest and pushing him back into his chair. "For a minute. And I don't even think she was actually awake. She was.like when she gets a vision. Like that. She was mumbling in Russian. I wrote it down."  
  
Looking down, Angel began to read the English that Spike had scrawled underneath the messy Russian words. "She can help me; she can save me. Branch, leaves, root, crying, tree. She can help me; she can save me. They stare. They burn holes in me with their gaze. She can help me; she can save us all."  
  
Drusilla sighed contently, and when Angel looked over, she had sunk to the floor with a dreamy look on her face. "She plays on the merry-go-round, but it just takes her in spinning little circles. It's the swings that will let her fly, set her free. But she can't reach them, she can only meet her new friend in the sandbox."  
  
Spike snorted, but Angel just fought back a wince and looked at the blond vampire. "Any ideas?"  
  
"Besides the obvious fact that it ties to Dru's vision?" Spike drawled. "None."  
  
Angel nodded tiredly and put the paper aside. "I tried to backtrack the blood trail she left in the sewers," he told Spike. "She was only underground for about three blocks. The trail ended by a parking meter.  
  
"I also checked my sources," he added. "No one knew anything about a vampire being tortured, and no one knew of any new arrivals. I'm beginning to think she wasn't worked on here. We need to start figuring out who would know about the Amalgamated, and who would have an idea that it's Dev."  
  
"See, what bothers me about this," Spike said, taking a seat, "is that it came out of the damned blue. When she was in Sunnyhell while the rest of us were there?" He raised a cynical brow. "Yeah, it would have been more expected then. But now? When she hasn't been in the same room with any of us in a couple of years?" He shook his head. "Something happened."  
  
Angel thought about that. "What if someone who knows about the Analects knew something was going to happen in relation to it, and found out about her that way?"  
  
"Peaches, we killed everyone who'd ever set eyes on that damned book. You were there, remember?"  
  
Angel flinched at the reminder of deeds he couldn't blame on being soulless, and Spike smirked.  
  
"No, we killed everyone who we *knew* had seen the book," Angel corrected, falling back into his normal habit of ignoring Spike. "There were probably others. And the ones we did take care of might have passed stories on to others."  
  
"So how the bloody hell do we figure it out then?" Spike growled.  
  
"We start with the Analects," Angel said simply. "We find out what Dev was involved with recently, and we go from there."  
  
Angel watched as a condescending look fell over Spike's countenance. "Gee, that's a great idea. I don't know why I didn't think of that. Wait, I do. We don't have the fucking Analects; Dev has had it in her hands since we got it for her, and we have no idea where it is now. We have no place to start, either, because trying to get the little bitch to talk about it is like pulling teeth. She keeps it all to herself, even if she thinks she won't make it."  
  
Angel closed his eyes. Wasn't that the truth? Dev had read through the Analects one long German night, after Spike and Dru had killed the human who'd had it in his possession, and thereafter refused to let them lay eyes on it. Several months later, she'd taken off at dusk one evening without a word.  
  
She'd trusted her three sires to finish the task of taking out anyone else who'd possessed the Analects, and they had done so before parting company again. That had been the last time, until Sunnydale, that he'd seen any of them. He'd spread rumors about his death, even letting Dev believe them.  
  
After Spike had called her to let her know that Angel was actually alive and kicking, she'd shown up in Sunnydale. She'd yelled at him for that deception, then yelled at him for not telling her that she'd gotten the soul from him--though she'd actually figured that out not long after reading the Analects, she admitted later that night--then burst into tears.  
  
He'd kept in contact with her after that, but hadn't seen her again until after he'd lost his soul, when curiosity had brought her back to Sunnydale. She hadn't liked what she'd seen. Dev had walked into the main room of the mansion, watched her three sires interact for five minutes, and accurately assessed the situation for what it was: totally fucked up, and Angelus for what he was: half off his rocker and nothing like the vampire patriarch he'd been in the past.  
  
Angel thought she might have accepted Angelus if he'd been the vampire she'd heard about from Spike and Dru. Angelus had merely thought that she was *his* and should obey him as such. That had been a nightmare of monumental proportions, that week. He'd sent her off to be broken by several of his best minions, only to have her escape after several days and seek him out in the garden.  
  
One moment Angelus had been sitting on the edge of the broken fountain, mocking Spike, and the next moment Dev had been on top of him, pinning him to the edge of the fountain with her legs and pushing his shoulders down into the shallow water with her hands. With a quick flick of her fangs she'd cut his chest, tasted his blood, then spat it at his face.  
  
Before he could grab her, she was off of him, and halfway through the garden. "Blood never lies," she'd hissed. "And you are *no* sire of mine. Call me if you get the soul back."  
  
Angel's head snapped back, and he blinked up at the ceiling before realizing what had just happened. The little blond bastard had just punched him. *Punched* him. He lowered his head and glared at Spike.  
  
"Back to this planet, are you? Fabulous," Spike drawled. "I can't imagine why Willow's worried about any of this."  
  
Drusilla laughed, still sitting on the floor, her skirt spread out around her so very prettily. "Daddy was remembering power he was afraid of. He didn't know, you see," she whispered in a conspiratorial manner. "What she'd learned and become. What she'd ever been, really. Blood was on his face, and he wiped it away, wiped her away."  
  
Spike's eyes flickered and Angel saw understanding pass through them. "Thank you for the news flash, princess, but I remember when Dev visited Sunnyhell, too," he said indulgently before turning a cold glance on Angel. "She's worried and scared, Peaches, and I don't bleedin' blame her. I think I've got even less faith in us than she does."  
  
Angel sighed, and ran a hand across his face. Spike was talking about Willow again, and he was right. "How about we come to one of those uneasy truces?" he suggested.  
  
Spike rolled his eyes and then moved to the chair in front of Angel's desk, running his hand through Dru's hair on the way. He sat down and raised an eyebrow. "We already have one of those, courtesy of Dev."  
  
"And it doesn't seem to be working."  
  
"Not so far, no," Spike agreed instantly.  
  
That seemed to be all the input he'd be getting from Spike, Angel realized, and he frowned as he thought about it all. Just as he'd come to a decision, Drusilla rose, a wide smile on her face. She glided behind Spike and rested her hands on his shoulders, leaning down to put her mouth close to his ear, her eyes sparkling like obsidian as they stared at Angel.  
  
"Daddy wants to play house," she sang lightly. "The past come back, but only in the present tense." Angel could literally see Spike's muscles tense at her words. "Don't worry, Spike, it will be fine until it's not anymore. It'll be like a party with costumes, and we'll play ourselves just a tiny bit. I'll get a pretty dress to wear and we'll dance and dance until our feet can't hold us any longer. Then we'll crawl and cry and it'll be grand."  
  
It seemed that Spike was made of stone as he sat there with Drusilla hovering at his back and his hands clenching the arms of his chair. It hadn't been so long that they didn't know what Dru was saying.  
  
"Not a truce," Angel said into the silence, watching Spike carefully.  
  
"We can't forget," Spike ground out. "Can't pretend none of it happened, and you bloody well know it."  
  
"No, we can't and we won't," Angel said quietly. "But we do the next best thing and act like we have. We need to get Dev through this, and Willow is our best--our only--shot at it. She can't carry the load on her own, and if we keep on the way we have been, then she will be."  
  
There were only two beings on the planet that could get Spike to ignore his emotions and focus entirely on the situation at hand. Drusilla was one, and Dev was the other. Angel watched Spike's face and saw the myriad of emotions that played across it before resolution settled in for a stay.  
  
"Right, whatever. We'll play house," Spike growled. "But there are ground rules, you hear?" Angel nodded. "First, you don't do anything to upset Willow again. Any more tension and she'll be useless." The thought crossed Angel's mind that Spike was going a little overboard where Willow was concerned, but he put that aside for later consideration and simply nodded again.  
  
"Second, the imbecile ex-Watcher goes now, instead of Wednesday." That actually fit into Angel's plans and he rolled his eyes to let Spike know that went without stating. Spike continued with, "Third, you bloody well remember that it's not actually how it used to be. You are not head of shit anymore, and I'm playing along for Dev, and no other reason. And fourth, when it's over, it's over. We go back to the way it should be and we don't talk about it."  
  
"Fine," Angel replied in a clipped voice. "Just as long as *you* remember all of it, too. Your little rebellions of old aren't allowed. Neither are your desperate bids for attention. And if *you* talk about it, then it's free game."  
  
Spike nodded jerkily, and Angel wondered if maybe they weren't all doomed, truces and pretending aside.  
  
~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^  
  
Willow's eyes opened, and she was staring at black leather. She sat up, realizing that she was on yet another couch. When would she next see a bed? The only illumination in the room came from a small light over a kitchen sink. Angel's apartment, she recalled. She looked around, her vision tuned to the dimness. Two bodies were on the floor next in the middle of the room. Spike and Drusilla. Curled around one another familiarly. She looked away quickly.  
  
Willow sat up and ran her hands through her hair, then looked at her watch. Eleven in the morning. She hadn't had nearly enough sleep and she couldn't understand why she'd woken. Then she heard it. Whimpers. Coming from Angel's room. Had to be Dev. Willow groaned quietly and got to her feet, carefully stepping around Spike and Drusilla and making her way to the kitchen. She grabbed a glass from the dish rack and filled it with water from the tap.  
  
Her stomach growled as she drank the water, and she paused. When had she last eaten? The fact that she wasn't sure was a bad sign. Setting the glass on the counter, she went to the fridge.  
  
The bedroom door opened, and Angel was there. He stared at her for a moment then went to the vampires on the floor. "Spike, wake up," he said quietly. "Your shift."  
  
When Spike had been chipped and staying at Giles' place, Willow had once had the unpleasant task of waking him. It had taken an arsenal of techniques to get him up, including yelling at him, smacking him with a pillow and, finally, taking hold of his shoulder and shaking him. Spike's headache had passed in a few minutes, but her bruise hadn't faded for several days.  
  
So she watched apprehensively as Angel stood over Spike and Dru. To her surprise, there were no theatrics. Spike sat up almost instantly, seemingly wide-awake. Willow saw his head turn as he looked at Dru for a moment, then saw him look to the couch.  
  
"She's in the kitchen," Angel told him.  
  
Spike glanced at her, and Willow waved her hand. "Morning," she said, her voice still husky with sleep.  
  
"You should still be asleep," Spike said as he disentangled himself from Dru and stood up.  
  
Willow shrugged. "Hungry."  
  
"There's not much here," Angel told her apologetically.  
  
A sneaking suspicion made Willow sigh and open the fridge. Two shelves of bagged blood, and a carton of eggs whose expiration date was a week before. "I don't suppose the cabinets are stocked?" she asked wryly.  
  
"Uh, no. Cordy hasn't had to stay here lately, so she didn't do any food shopping. I think she left some yogurt in the mini fridge in the office, though," he offered.  
  
"Ugh," Willow said distastefully.  
  
"Yeah, bacteria ain't very appealing," Spike added as he stretched. He joined her in the kitchen and pulled several bags of blood out of the fridge and then opened a cabinet.  
  
"I'll go through the sewers and pick some things up," Angel said. "I'm sorry that we didn't--"  
  
"Didn't remember what humans need?" Willow finished with a grin. Despite Cordy's influence during the past year, the situation would most certainly have made Angel lose sight of the small details like food. "No worries. Mind if I go with?"  
  
Angel looked at Dru's sleeping form. "That might be best actually. I'll also need to get some more blood."  
  
Blood didn't seem to be something he was running low on, and Willow frowned. "I'll take a shower and change. Fifteen minutes?"  
  
Angel tilted his head to the side. "Fifteen minutes. More like an hour, I think."  
  
Spike put several mugs of blood in the microwave and pushed some buttons. Then he snickered. "Not Willow. Lowest of low maintenance, she is."  
  
Willow wrinkled her nose and wished he wasn't a vampire, because she had the urge to kick him for that comment. She settled on glaring at him, and he smirked.  
  
"Make Angel cook for you when he gets back; he's pretty good at it."  
  
Angel. He'd called him Angel. Not Poof, or Peaches, or Nancy Boy. Angel. Hmm. Lots to ponder in the shower this morning.  
  
~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^  
  
It took Willow seventeen minutes to get ready. When she came out of the bathroom, dressed in a pair of jeans and a forest green button down shirt, Angel was nowhere in sight. She heard voices from the bedroom, and crept closer to the door.  
  
"Hate to break it to you, but she hates this," Willow heard Spike say.  
  
There was a pause. "She told me she liked it," Angel murmured.  
  
"That soul of hers makes her try to not hurt your feelings," Spike chuckled. "Ain't that right, Dev?"  
  
"Are you sure? Because she was really excited when I got her a first edition last year," Angel said uncertainly. "I mean, she wouldn't just pretend to like it that much. Would she?"  
  
"Whatever. You can read that to her. I'll read." Willow heard some noises. Books being sorted through. She was very familiar with that sound. ".this."  
  
"What is that.Bram Stoker?" Angel said, sounding shocked. "You can't seriously believe that she'll want to hear that tripe."  
  
"Yeah, she will. It's funny. She needs some amusement after spending the last few hours listening to *your* drivel. And may I ask why you even own this supposed *tripe*?"  
  
"Cordelia."  
  
"Yeah, I figured. You better get going, 'cause if you stay in here much longer Red might fall through the door eavesdropping," Spike said loudly.  
  
Willow stuck her tongue out at the closed door and turned around. Only to find Drusilla right in front of her. She took a step back, but the vampire shook her head, one finger lifting to her lips in a "shush" motion, and her other hand taking hold of Willow's arm just above the elbow. Dru's eyes were glittering, and there was a sweet smile on her face. It didn't ease Willow's fear. She'd had that same look on her face as she'd killed Kendra.  
  
"Uh, guys?" she squeaked.  
  
Angel was at her side immediately, pulling Dru away. "Drusilla," he snapped. "What did we tell you?"  
  
"Princess, come sit with me and Dev," Spike called out from behind Willow.  
  
Pouting, Drusilla slunk away from Angel and moved past Willow to enter the bedroom. The door clicked closed and Willow took a great huge breath. "So, uh, how's this going to work without me getting killed?"  
  
Angel stood in front of her, hands on her shoulders. "She's dangerous, Willow, there's no getting around it," he said. "She knows better than we do that you'll be helping Dev. But she.forgets sometimes. Keep your eyes away from hers, remind her that Dev needs you, and then tell her to back off from whatever she's doing."  
  
Willow grinned wryly. "And if that doesn't work, scream like hell?"  
  
"Yeah, that'll work, too. Come on, let's get you some food."  
  
~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^  
  
Angel had expected some comments about traveling via the sewers, but Willow hadn't said much after they'd climbed down the ladder. He supposed he was used to Cordy, who took any opportunity to voice her opinions. Also, Willow had spent more than a handful of time in Sunnydale's sewers.  
  
The silence was fine with Angel, who at times had the urge to gag Cordelia to keep her quiet and stop her from trying to get him to talk. Sadly, it didn't last very long.  
  
"Why all the blood?"  
  
And of course it would be a question, so he was forced to respond. Sometimes he really did miss his solo days.  
  
"Spike and Drusilla aren't hunting, so we need enough for three of us," he said, glancing at her. She nodded, as if she'd expected the answer, then a thoughtful frown fell over her face.  
  
"Why not? Why aren't they hunting?" she clarified when Angel looked at her oddly.  
  
"Oh. We have to give Dev huge amounts of our blood, and Spike and Drusilla wouldn't be able to hunt enough to keep themselves strong without drawing attention to their presence her."  
  
"Okay, thanks. We'll go back to silent mode now."  
  
He heard the smile in her voice and grinned a little bit. True to her word, Willow didn't say anything else until they got to the supermarket entrance, at which point she stared up at the ladder and then looked at Angel.  
  
"Yeah, so I'm a little creeped out that you know the sewer entrance to the grocery store, and where exactly will this take us?"  
  
"Into the back stock room," Angel told her. "Cordy and I have done it before. If anyone sees us, we'll just say we accidentally wandered back there and ask them to show us the way out."  
  
"Ah, simple. I like it. Lead the way, then," she said with a grin, making "up" motions with her hand.  
  
Angel climbed the ladder and unlatched the sewer grate, pulling himself out and then reaching down to lift Willow out. He remembered doing the same for a battered and almost unrecognizable Dev, just a few days before, and set Willow on her feet less gently then he'd meant to. She looked at him for a moment, but didn't say anything.  
  
They made it into the store without incident, and Willow grabbed a small basket from next to the cash register. "We'll just get enough for today right now. I guess someone can come back when it's dark and stock up for the.week."  
  
"Uh, yeah," Angel stammered, hastily looking away. Should he have been more honest with Willow? Maybe, maybe not. Either way, he thought she'd be more inclined to agree to come to L.A. if she thought the situation was temporary. "You and Spike can come by later tonight--"  
  
"Angel."  
  
Willow placed her hand on his arm, and Angel looked down at her. "Yes?"  
  
"I know it will be more than a week," she said quietly. "I knew before I left. So stop feeling bad about it, all right? Now, I'm thinking steak. Oooh, and mashed potatoes." She looped her arm through his and led him down an aisle. "Can you do mashed potatoes?"  
  
~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^ 


	3. Part 3

As it turned out, Angel could not do mashed potatoes. Willow had pondered that factoid in the supermarket, and then changed her mind altogether. Steak took too long and she was so very hungry.  
  
Angel had suggested omelets, and she'd found out he could do those very well. She was cleaning up after her meal--two helpings--while the vampires went in to feed Dev. They'd all imbibed more than a packet of blood each, Angel calmly asking her if she had wanted them to leave the room since she was eating.  
  
Willow had shrugged. "Spike stayed at Giles' for a while," she'd said, unconcerned. "We all got used to it."  
  
Spike and Angel came back into the living room, both looking paler than they had before they'd eaten, and more blood was prepared. Spike brought several large mugs in to Drusilla, who was sitting with Dev. When he returned, Willow grabbed a can of soda from the fridge, and stopped him when he would have gone upstairs.  
  
"Spike." He paused by the lift. "We all need to talk."  
  
Angel ran his hands through his hair and took a seat on the couch. Spike sat on a chair. Willow picked up her lap top case from the floor by the bedroom door and studied the vampires' positions. She decided her best bet was to be situated so that she could see both their faces, and opted for sitting cross-legged on the floor. Dragging the coffee table over to her, she unpacked her laptop and set it up, opening a blank word processor document.  
  
"So," she said easily. "I'm rested and fed. I think we should start at the beginning."  
  
Neither vampire said anything. Angel was gripping the arm of the sofa like it was trying to get away from him, and Spike was staring up at the ceiling like it was showing a movie. Willow sighed, already frustrated. Okay, she knew it wasn't easy for them, but how did they expect her to accomplish anything if she didn't know anything?  
  
"Angel," she said calmly, adjusting the laptop screen. "Tell me about Dev's arrival." A ripping noise. His fingers had torn through the sofa fabric. Better and better. "Angel!"  
  
His eyes lifted from the floor and focused on her. "Cordy and I were down here," he said without inflection. "There was a noise at the sewer grate. I opened it. Dev was there."  
  
Dutifully, Willow typed his words. "And this was on Thursday?" Angel nodded curtly. "And what time was that?"  
  
"Just before dawn."  
  
Willow took a breath and tried to calm herself. Getting angry would just make the situation worse. She was going to have to do it the way Angel wanted, and pull every single detail out of him with pointed questions. It was going to make it worse on him, but he didn't seem to notice.  
  
"Did she say anything?" Willow prodded.  
  
A long pause. "Sire."  
  
"Sire?" Willow echoed, her brow furrowing. "Is that what she normally calls you?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Then why did she call you sire when she saw you?"  
  
"Because she could tell I didn't recognize her."  
  
"We're done," Spike snarled, jumping to his feet.  
  
He was standing above her, his game face on and his fists clenched at his side. Willow looked at Angel, saw that he was too distracted to notice or care, and she stood up.  
  
"If you think I'm getting a kick out of this, you're wrong," she said quickly, trying to forestall a "spot of violence" as Spike called it. "The two of you hear some vision that Drusilla had and drag me out here. Fine. You tell me that you want me to help you figure out what happened, why it happened, and who might have done it. Fine."  
  
Willow stepped back from Spike and glared at the two of them. Angel was still in la la land, and Willow strode quickly to him, snapping her fingers in his face. He blinked owlishly and stared at her. "Explain to me, both of you, how I'm supposed to do either of those things in my current state of ignorance," she tossed out archly.  
  
Angel was on his feet now. "You don't need every detail," he said flatly.  
  
"Really?" Willow asked innocently. "Interesting. Tell me, then, what Dru's vision says I should do."  
  
"How the fuck should we know," Spike exploded. "She can't talk right and we can't understand her babbling."  
  
"All right," Willow replied smoothly. She folded her arms across her chest and tapped her foot. "Then why don't you tell me what to do to find out the information you need? Step by step. You know, so I can do it."  
  
Angel had already grasped her point, and sat down heavily. It took Spike an extra moment or two. "Bloody hell," he muttered, game face slipping off.  
  
Smiling gently, Willow sat in front of her laptop again. "I want to help," she told them softly. "And I know it's hard, but it's necessary."  
  
"All right," Angel whispered.  
  
"Spike?" Willow asked. "You with me?"  
  
"Yeah, pet, I'm with you," he mumbled, sitting again, this time on the sofa with Angel. On the opposite side of it, but still on the same sofa.  
  
"Angel, am I going to have to ask a jillion questions?"  
  
"No, I'll tell you."  
  
"Then go ahead."  
  
"Her face was a mess," he began tonelessly. "Even her voice was off. But when she said sire, I knew that it had to be her. Drusilla calls me Daddy when she wants to acknowledge the fact that I made her. Dev.Dev has always called me sire at those times. I lifted her off the ladder."  
  
Willow filtered out all emotion she heard in his voice, choosing instead to just listen to the raw words and concentrate on typing them. If she let herself hear the pain in his voice, she didn't think she'd be able to continue listening without crying.  
  
"All she was wearing was a man's suit jacket, with a crowbar tied to it. She was so weak, and I think she used it to knock on the sewer grate so that I could hear her. I had her in my arms, and she looked at me for a moment, then passed out. Cordy got some towels and I put Dev on the sofa.  
  
"It was.horrible. Every inch of her that I could see had been brutalized. There were cross burns, holy water scaldings, knife marks, bruising. Everything possible. Both of her breasts had been cut open. Her legs had been broken and reset wrong.  
  
"I didn't know how bad it was at first. Then I moved her to the bed to clean her off. I tried to take off the jacket, but it was stuck to her back. I didn't know. I just pulled it away. That was when I saw."  
  
Willow's fingers paused, waiting, but nothing else came. She slowly lifted her head, seeing the tears falling from Angel's eyes.  
  
"Her back was flayed," Spike said roughly, and Willow nodded just once, and looked back down.  
  
"Cordy came in with blood," Angel continued in a monotone. "Took one look and ran out of the room. I gave Dev every drop of blood I had on hand, but it wasn't staying in her. Too many open wounds that wouldn't heal. I sent Cordy to the blood bank for human blood and tried a few more times. Nothing worked. So I drank the blood myself, cut my wrist, and forced her to drink from me. No change."  
  
"You called Spike then," Willow ventured. "Told him about Dev, and asked him to see if he could track down Drusilla. From what Buffy found out, Spike, you went to Willie's. I'm guessing you tried to find out where she was."  
  
"Yeah," he agreed harshly. "Some demon's ex-girlfriend was a vampire, and he told me that rumor had it Dru was in Madrid. I called a vamp there that she and I knew from years ago, and he told me that she left a few days ago. Said she was talking about Devils and Angels, so I figured she'd sensed something had happened and had already started on her way here."  
  
"Is that what happened?"  
  
"Yeah. She showed up on Saturday and neither of us had spoken to her," Spike replied.  
  
"What happened next?"  
  
"Wesley and Cordy brought over more blood," Angel went on. "We fed ourselves then fed Dev."  
  
"Was there any improvement?"  
  
"Very slight," Angel answered her. "The wounds are so bad that the blood drains out of her as fast as it goes in. But our blood *is* helping to heal her injuries."  
  
"Problem is," Spike interjected, "it's slow going."  
  
"How long do you think it'll be until she's completely healed?"  
  
"Weeks," Spike said quietly when Angel didn't respond. "And that's with us giving her our blood five times a day."  
  
Willow looked up at Spike then. He looked.empty. Just empty. It wasn't a pretty sight. She took her hands from the keyboard. "Spike, when you and Drusilla first came to Sunnydale, she'd been injured."  
  
Spike frowned at the changed in subject. "Yeah," he said, confused. "Mob in Prussia roughed her up good. What does that have to do with anything?"  
  
"You performed a ritual to heal her," Willow reminded him. "It wasn't enough for her to drink her sire's blood. Why is sire's blood working for Dev?"  
  
"Sire's blood alone will help a vampire heal," Angel explained. "But that wasn't what Spike and Dru were after in Sunnydale. Dru was already healed from Prussia. She was just weak."  
  
"She would have recovered her strength on her own eventually," Spike added, "but it probably would have been years 'til that happened."  
  
A shortcut. Of course. Impatience had struck again. "Can you three perform that ritual on Dev, then?" Willow wondered. "I mean, there are three sires, but I'm sure that could be compensated for somehow."  
  
"The ritual is to restore strength, Willow," Angel responded, "and all the strength in the world won't heal what's been done to her."  
  
"But what about after she's healed?"  
  
"No," Spike said firmly. "We're not doing it."  
  
That was surprising. She'd expected the opposite sentiment from Spike. "Why not?"  
  
"Too risky," he said immediately. "Half the ritual worked for Drusilla, but it might not work for Dev. The whole ritual would kill the three of us and might not do what it's supposed to. Then where would Dev be?"  
  
Weak and alone, Willow finished. "Okay. What happened after you three fed Dev the first time?"  
  
"We got Dev comfortable and tried to figure out if any of us knew anything useful," Angel said. "We didn't. Dev is very independent. She keeps in touch, but."  
  
Spike snorted. "She's a pain in the arse, Angel, feel free to say it. She'll spend an hour talking about why she decided to move to Las Vegas, but she doesn't talk about the Analects. Sometimes, if she's had a close call, she'll give us a sentence or two, but she won't answer any questions, and it's always after the fact."  
  
That didn't bode well for Willow's quest for information. And, again with the Angel instead of Peaches. Right, one thing at a time.  
  
"None of you knew anything, so then.?"  
  
"We asked Drusilla to see if she could get into Dev's head," Spike told Willow. "She can do that, you know. Kind of wiggle into someone's mind and learn things. Didn't work. She's just too far gone for Drusilla to reach."  
  
"We fed her again an hour later," Angel picked up the story. "That's when Spike realized that we might have a problem if you restored his soul. Drusilla said that it would be taken care of when Spike went to Sunnydale to get the girl who was going to save Dev."  
  
"I asked her what she meant," Spike continued. "She said she saw you make Dev better and keep her safe."  
  
Willow highly doubted that Drusilla had said anything so coherent, but she'd get to that later.  
  
"So, I was going to be here, and Angel was sending Wesley away. Is that how I got volunteered for research duty?" Willow asked curiously.  
  
Angel shook his head. "I hadn't made the decision to send Cordy and Wes away at that point."  
  
Willow looked at Spike. "We don't know where Dev keeps the Analects," he told her. "But unlike the rest of us, she's a creature of technology. Computers," he clarified when Willow stared at him uncomprehendingly. "That's why we need your help. Even if that imbecile 'demon hunter' were here, he wouldn't be able to find out too much. The Analects haven't been seen by anyone but Dev since two months after she was.born. Anything else he'd come across wouldn't be reliable."  
  
"Too many degrees of separation," Willow murmured, understanding. "The information would be tainted at this point. Right. So Spike went back to Sunnydale then, and I know all of that. Anything else happen?"  
  
Angel shifted on the sofa and reached into his back pocket. He held out a crumpled piece of paper to her and she took it. There were some foreign words written, and then English words. Willow read it over and then busied herself by typing them to the document she'd been transcribing everything to.  
  
"What is this?" she asked when she was done.  
  
"Dev said that last night," Spike explained. "It's the only thing she's said since she got here."  
  
Willow saved her document and reached for her soda. "We're done for now. I'll need you guys to help me at the computer in a little while. To help me figure out where to start," she explained when the merely blinked at her. "Give me access to emails she's sent, that kind of stuff." She frowned thoughtfully. "And if either of you can think of any place on line that she's ordered stuff--like Amazon--then let me know."  
  
Both men nodded and Willow stood up, freezing when she saw Drusilla in the living room, just next to the bedroom door.  
  
"Is it my turn to tell a story now?" the vampire asked giddily.  
  
~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^  
  
Spike felt his eyes bug open, and then he was moving. He and Angel reached Drusilla at the same time and each grabbed one of her arms. Her eyes were trained on Willow.  
  
"They think I can't play with my toys without breaking them," she cooed at Willow, "but you know better. I saw you in the sandbox, but you didn't have water to make the sand do what you wanted." She wagged a slim finger in Willow's direction. "No castles for you. I'm the princess."  
  
"Dru, sweets, you don't want to leave Dev alone, do you?" Spike whispered in her ear, kissing her hair softly. He wrapped one arm around her waist and tried to guide her back the way she'd come. She didn't budge, nor did her eyes move from Willow. Fuck. He'd seen that glow in her eyes before, the one that said she wouldn't be denied.  
  
He looked at Angel and nodded his head.  
  
"Get in the bedroom, Drusilla," Angel ordered her, his voice hard. "Now. I'm not going to tell you again."  
  
"Mroow, Daddy barks, but he won't bite. Maybe he should give away his teeth."  
  
"Can you?" Spike heard Willow say, and turned to face the red-head. Her forehead was wrinkled, her eyes narrowed in the manner that Spike had come to associate with her thinking mode. Something was twisting in that clever mind. Double fuck.  
  
"Can I give away my teeth?" Angel asked Willow distractedly, still holding Dru firmly.  
  
"Can you play with your toys without breaking them?" Willow pushed.  
  
"Yes, I can," Drusilla trilled, rolling her head back languidly.  
  
Spike met Angel's eyes and saw that the souled vampire was just as lost as he was. "Willow, go upstairs," Spike hissed, but the stubborn bint ignored him.  
  
Her countenance was no longer thoughtful, and her eyes were now a bit dazed, unfocused, as she moved closer to the three vampires. Spike swung his head around, but Drusilla's eyes were firmly planted on the floor, her lips pulled in a small smile.  
  
"Knock it off, Dru!" Angel shouted, one hand at her throat, pushing her against the bedroom door.  
  
"It's not her," Spike shouted. "It's not Dru."  
  
The souled vampire blinked at Spike, then looked at Willow. Her eyes didn't have the empty, waiting gaze of someone in Dru's thrall. Angel released Dru's throat, still holding her arm tightly.  
  
"Then, who--"  
  
Their eyes met again as the scent assaulted their noses. Spike would know it anywhere.  
  
"Dev," Angel whispered, his mouth hanging open.  
  
She was daphne, their Dev. The light tang of lemon and the delicious sweet hint of honey. Purple blossoms ushered in by deep crimson berries that were poisonous even in small doses. It was Dev who had Willow in thrall, and he was damned if he knew how.  
  
Willow moved closer, stopping just a foot in front of them. And though his mind screamed that he should get her away from Drusilla, he couldn't move. Drusilla's mood and posture had shifted. Her eyes were closed and her head lolled forward; she was trembling slightly.  
  
"I'm trying," she mewled. "But they think I'll break the toy. Shatter her skin, melt her hair, take her eyes. I won't!"  
  
Brazil. The destroyed remnants of Miss Edith's delicate porcelain body. The picture shifted in Spike's head until he no longer saw Miss Edith, but Willow, and he cursed softly.  
  
"Sweetness," Willow murmured, her hand reaching out quickly to gently brush Drusilla's hair back.  
  
Spike watched Drusilla's lower lip slide outwards in a pout. Her delicate foot stamped once, twice, before Willow lifted her hand again and took Dru's chin between two fingers, raising the vampire's head until their eyes locked.  
  
In mind-numbing shock, Spike saw the hand in front of Dru's face, two fingers outstretched, moving close to her wide and unblinking eyes. "Be in me," Willow murmured, swinging her hand back and around until they came close to her own eyes. "Be in me."  
  
"It's quiet now," he heard Drusilla whisper in wonder. Angel threw himself backwards, away from Dru, with a cry of pain. Spike wanted to follow, to escape this veil of sanity that had settled over his Princess. They hadn't known. Dev had never told them.  
  
Willow smiled, her eyes soft and filled with something not Willow at all. "I'd make it like this forever if I could," she breathed.  
  
"Of course you would," Drusilla replied immediately. "You would do anything for us, and we for you."  
  
Spike thought it sounded familiar, as though they'd had the same exchange before and it was commonplace, rote.  
  
"She is not a toy, and you mustn't think of her that way," Willow said firmly.  
  
"Tell us who did this," Spike pleaded, his nose filled with Dev.  
  
Willow didn't move, didn't seem to have heard him. She was still focused solely on Drusilla, like nothing else existed.  
  
"She can't."  
  
Spike looked at Drusilla. Her eyes were clear and rational, her face regretful. "Why not? Why can't she?!"  
  
"Because she doesn't know, and because even if she did, she's not here, really. It's like a.recording. She's too weak to do more."  
  
"Dru." That was Angel's voice, sounding tortured, despondent.  
  
Her face softened, and she turned to Angel. "I've no time for it. She can't keep this up for much longer."  
  
Once Drusilla was facing Willow again, the red-head continued as though nothing else had occurred. Maybe it hadn't, at least not for her, and maybe Drusilla *was* all that existed.  
  
"I need to make sure you won't hurt her," Willow went on. "Change for me."  
  
Spike jerked Drusilla harshly when she vamped out, pulling her away from Willow. But she tore herself from his restraining hold, her hand grasping his just briefly. "It's all right, luv. She knows what she's doing."  
  
Willow's small hand was raised again, moving towards Dru's mouth. "Open, sweetness." When Dru had complied, Willow flicked her index finger along a fang, drawing blood. Dru remained motionless, letting the few drops of blood fall into her mouth. The daphne was gone, Spike realized. In its place was cloves and mint. Willow. "She is me. Taste me, smell me, know me. She is me."  
  
Drusilla swallowed as Willow removed her hand. She took a step closer and swayed towards Dru, whose eyes had regained their normal madness. Then Willow pitched forward, her head tilting to the side and leaving her neck exposed.  
  
~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^  
  
Angel had watched the exchange between Dru and Willow with confusion and astonishment. It hadn't seem possible that it could really be happening, that Drusilla's mind had been ironed out smoothly, that Willow reeked of Dev. Even Dru's words to him had seemed surreal, and he'd wondered if he'd been hallucinating.  
  
But no, he hadn't been. His mind kicked into gear again as Willow fell against Drusilla. Willow's scent hung thickly in the air for a brief moment, as if amplified, then faded to its regular resonance. Angel saw Drusilla smiling with devilish delight at the neck just inches from her mouth.  
  
Her head lowered, and Angel knew he wouldn't make it in time. Neither would Spike, who was only a few feet away from the women. Drusilla had a stunning speed to her strike that was surprising even for a vampire. Her mouth came to rest on Willow's neck, her fangs pierced the skin, her throat moved, swallowing the first taste.  
  
.and she lifted her head, frowning. "Naughty, naughty," she said indignantly. "You are a very bad girl for offering yourself like this. Tricky. None of that."  
  
Spike reached them, snatched Willow around the waist with both arms and sprinted across the room. Angel wrapped his hand round Dru's arm and shoved her into the bedroom. He raised a warning hand. "Stay," he growled, slamming the door shut.  
  
He was hesitant to leave the door, worried that Dru would wander out again despite his command. Spike had moved Willow to the couch and laid her down and was crouched next to her. "Spike?"  
  
"She's fine," Spike called out, and Angel closed his eyes in relief. It was short lived, as a high pitched keening emanated from the bedroom. "I've got her, go," Spike said quickly.  
  
Angel entered the bedroom. Drusilla was rocking on her heels, hands tearing at her hair as she stared at the figure on the bed. The noise was coming from her, not Dev. He stepped past Dru and then stopped, horrified. Blood. Everywhere. Soaked through the sheets. Every wound seeping.  
  
*Nonononononononononono.*  
  
Grabbed the bowl at the foot of the bed. Spun on his heel and vamped out. Took Drusilla's wrist and tore into it. Held the bowl under it and didn't remove it was a third of the way filled. Then his own wrist. Two thirds full.  
  
He was back in the living room and Spike was staring at him with wide eyes as Angel practically flew at him. Angel raised the bowl and Spike changed, slashing his own wrist in time for the first drop to fall into the bowl Angel slid into place.  
  
Vaguely he knew Willow was staring at him, fear and confusion drawing the color from her face, sending tremors through her body. No time.  
  
"Get all the blood we have," Angel growled as the bowl was filled and he made his way back to the bedroom.  
  
~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^  
  
Willow was pushed back against the sofa. Spike lifted her legs and did something with the cushion under her knee so that it raised her legs. Her wide eyes followed his movements, the adrenaline rush that had resulted from fear at Spike's unexpected change in visage and bloodletting still coursing through her.  
  
"Spike, what's going on?" she asked weakly, one trembling hand pressed against the bite. "What happened?"  
  
"Stay there for a sec."  
  
He was gone and back quickly, setting a first aid kit on her stomach. "Clean the bite and bandage it." He gestured to the coffee table, where two cans of soda sat. "Drink those. She only took a sip, but you're probably needing something to get the cotton from your head. Don't try to walk just yet."  
  
A choked sound clawed its way up Willow's throat. "A sip? But I feel--"  
  
"Not from the bite," he refuted. She saw him tense, saw his eyes travel towards the bedroom door. "Dev needed you, and she's paying for it now I wager. The caffeine'll help."  
  
The empty haunted quality was back in his voice, his face, and Willow nodded. She heard rummage through the fridge then go into the bedroom. Bypassing the first aid kit on her stomach, she reached a shaking hand out and clumsily retrieved one of the sodas.  
  
It took a moment to get it open, and she dribbled a good deal of it on her face as she drank it from her prone position. When she was done, most of the fog had receded and she took a deep breath and began to clean the bite mark. She noticed as she opened the kit that her right index finger was sore. Looking down she saw a small cut that resembled a paper cut and she swabbed that, too, with antiseptic.  
  
She didn't know how it had happened. One second she'd been across the room from Drusilla, trying to figure out the best way to get the vampire to talk about her vision, and the next she'd been in Dru's arms experiencing the all too familiar pain of having a vamp's fangs buried in her neck.  
  
Spike had said Dev had needed her, and she knew that the Amalgamated had some psychic abilities similar to Dru's. Had Dev possessed her? And what did he mean, Dev was paying for it?  
  
The blood. Willow sat up suddenly, the first aid kit tumbling to the floor. Dev had been making progress, and she had the sinking feeling that had just changed. All that blood. Just like the first night Angel had told her about. Eyes narrowed, Willow reached for the second soda and drained it quickly.  
  
Standing wasn't that difficult, she found out a few minutes later, and after a couple of unsteady trips around the room her balance had righted itself.  
  
A half hour later she was at the bedroom door, knocking lightly. Spike answered, narrowing his eyes at her. "I told you not to move," he snapped. "We don't need another body to take care of, damn it."  
  
"I'm fine," Willow dismissed. "I'm going for more blood. How much should I get?"  
  
He looked like he wanted to argue, but he stared down at her and then back over his shoulder and nodded. "Triple what was in the fridge. Take my cell with you."  
  
The door closed in her face and Willow mouthed a few curses. Triple. He wanted sixty bags of blood--human blood. She could only hope that the contact she and Angel had visited earlier in the day could provide it.  
  
~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^  
  
Willow didn't return to Angel's until four hours later. His contact, a squirrelly looking man who was shorter than she was and twitched constantly, had decidedly not had that much blood on hand. Swallowing nervously, he'd offered to take her to get it. She'd called the vampires to find out what they wanted her to do and then let Angel talk to his contact.  
  
The man had been pale and shaking when he'd given her the phone back, and had refused to look at her, much less talk, from that point on. Willow hadn't minded in the least. She'd been apprehensive enough about the meanderings they made through the city that it was a blessing. Foul sewers, rat infested buildings, hospital dumpsters. They'd made the rounds. And at each stop, Willow had stayed carefully out of sight of whomever--or whatever, in several instances--Angel's contact was meeting, as Angel had insisted of her.  
  
She'd asked for help getting back to Angel's apartment, but the man had stepped back from her fearfully and shaken his head emphatically. He had, however, provided her with a shopping cart after she'd handed him a thick wad of bills from the wallet she'd pilfered from Angel's coat on her way out.  
  
Spike and Angel were hauling the blood up the sewer ladders. Neither looked to be in good shape. They were more colorless than usual, and even seemed gaunt, though Willow wondered how much of that had to do with the dead looks in their eyes than with any actual physical changes to their features.  
  
Angel thanked her tonelessly and took several bags of blood in his hands. "I'm going to head upstairs to the computer," Willow told him, running her hands through her hair. "Do you have emails from Dev on it?"  
  
Dazed, Angel looked at her. "Uh, yeah. Cordy made folders."  
  
Willow nodded and asked him for his sign-in information. Once he gave it to her, he stood there, like he was lost. Willow put her hand on his arm and looked up at him. "She needs you."  
  
He left. The rest of the blood was sitting on the table and counters in the kitchen. Neither of the men had spoken to her about Dev's current condition, but she had the feeling that their childe's progress had either halted, or regressed completely.  
  
Knowing that she'd be upstairs for a while, Willow set about gathering every pot and large bowl she could find in Angel's kitchen. Unsurprisingly, there weren't many. She filled them all with hot water from the faucet, then tilted her head and filled the sink itself. She put twenty of the bags in the refrigerator, and distributed the rest of them among the filled containers to warm them.  
  
Then, gathering what she needed, she headed upstairs.  
  
~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^  
  
Spike winced when he exited the stairwell and entered the brightly lit office area of the building. Downstairs, Angel had turned the lights as low as possible in the bedroom, bathing Dev in shadows and making it only a little bit easier to be in the same room with her. The only light in the rest of the apartment was the soft fluorescent bulb set above the kitchen sink. The change in illumination was harsh for his sensitive eyes.  
  
When they'd adjusted, he saw Willow at Cordelia's desk, hunched over a keyboard. Her glassy eyes were staring at the monitor and her nimble fingers were flying over the keyboard. A half dozen soda cans battled for space on the desk with numerous balls of wadded up paper and her laptop. Her eyes flickered from the screen in front of her to the laptop screen to her right, then back again.  
  
He didn't know how she was doing it, cans of caffeine aside. He supposed four years of helping the Slayer had gotten her used to sleepless nights, but it took its toll eventually, and Spike could tell she was at the point right now.  
  
The shadows beneath her eyes had become so dark as to resemble bruises, and her eyes were wide in the manner of someone who was afraid to blink in case they fell asleep. Still, her fingers never faltered and for a long while the only sound in the room was the click-clack of the keyboard.  
  
"Damn it!"  
  
Spike started at the sudden outburst, and the subsequent slamming of Willow's hands on the keyboard. She noticed him and leaned back in the chair with a groan. "Creature of technology? She's a freaking genius."  
  
His stomach clenched. "Can't do it?"  
  
"I didn't say that," Willow replied, pressing her palms against her eyes. "But I'm not getting into that system of hers tonight."  
  
Spike relaxed, purposely refusing to ask her when she might; he didn't think he'd be able to handle the answer right then. "This morning, you mean," he said instead.  
  
Her hands slipped from her face and she squinted at her watch. Spike saw her do a double take before a quiet, "oh" slipped from her lips. It was six in the morning, and she'd probably only just realized that she'd been up for almost twenty-four hours.  
  
"How's it going down there?" she asked a moment later, concern furrowing her brow.  
  
"Shitty," Spike told her bluntly, running a hand across the back of his neck. "She was just as bad as when she got here, and it'll take be another day before she's back to where she was."  
  
Willow nodded slowly, and her green eyes studied him. "You're feeding her constantly, aren't you?"  
  
Clever of her. "Yeah. Taking a break now. Angel's making food for you." He paused. "Thanks," he said reluctantly.  
  
She shrugged and began cleaning off the desk. "I haven't done anything yet, Spike."  
  
Spike shook his head and stared at her. The bloody chit had hauled her sorry ass through the sewers, and who the fuck else knew where, to get them blood after being mind-fucked by an unconscious vampire and nibbled on by another. Then she'd gone ahead and warmed all the blood, saving them from having to waste time with the microwave, only to spend the next many hours trying to get access to Dev's computers. With probably only twelve hours of sleep in the last three days. All to help a vampire she'd never even seen, let alone met.  
  
"Right," he muttered. "Come on, then. Food should be done."  
  
She smiled gratefully at him and made her way to the staircase. Spike followed her, noticing that her movements were slow and precise, as though she'd begun feeling her exhaustion now that she had nothing to occupy her. It was a feeling he knew they were all experiencing. Drusilla had curled up next to Dev before he'd come upstairs, and been asleep within minutes. Angel would undoubtedly collapse after he finished cooking, and Spike planned on smoking a cigarette and doing the same thing.  
  
Upstairs, Angel dished out a large helping of scrambled eggs for Willow, who ate them like a zombie. Angel sat with her at the table, and Spike leaned against the counter and lit a cigarette, and didn't hear a peep from Angel about it.  
  
"You don't have to worry about Drusilla," Angel said abruptly.  
  
"How come?" Willow asked, only a hint of her usual curiosity present.  
  
Spike was the one who answered. Between Angel's unwavering tendency to be cryptic, and Willow's need to get explanations that left no unanswered questions, he thought it might be hours before it was settled and they could sleep.  
  
"Used those gifts of hers to associate your blood with Dev."  
  
He could see the gears of her talented mind turning as she finished the eggs and reached for her juice. Just as Angel opened his mouth to explain further, Willow spoke. "Will it work?"  
  
"Already has," Spike reminded her, putting the cigarette out in one of the empty bowls on the counter. Then he gave in just a little when he saw Willow frown. "Drusilla may not be all souled up, pet, but she'd walk into the sun before hurting Dev. That little trick Dev pulled will make her think she's doing just that if she hurts you."  
  
"Okay. I'm thinking later I'll need more info, but that'll do for now."  
  
Angel stacked the dishes in the sink and Spike went into the living room. He moved the couch and the coffee table and began setting up three beds on the floor using the stacks of bedding that Angel had pulled from his closet. Willow stayed in the kitchen, and Angel checked in on the vampires in the bedroom. He emerged in a pair of sweats and padded on bare feet to help Spike finish up.  
  
When they were done, Willow stood, staring at the makeshift beds on the living room floor. The exhaustion should have made her body lethargic, but instead she was tense. Her hands curled into fists and her eyes were wide and unblinking.  
  
Spike went to the television and turned it on, raising the volume slightly. "Why don't you brush all that high fructose corn syrup off your teeth, huh?" he said to Willow as he sat on the couch and began slipping off his boots, watching some idiot or another report the news. "Don't need your mouth rot stinking up the room."  
  
He heard her leave the room, and set his boots aside, catching the sweatpants Angel tossed his way.  
  
"What's with the television?"  
  
Spike avoided Angel's eyes and removed his shirt, not answering.  
  
"Spike, what--"  
  
If they hadn't been vampires, they wouldn't have heard the quiet, muffled sobs from the bathroom.  
  
"That's what," Spike answered, jerking his jeans off and flinging them to the side. He pulled the sweatpants on and turned to look at Angel, who ran his hands through his hair and sank onto one of the beds.  
  
"What should we do?" Angel asked quietly.  
  
"Nothing," Spike said clearly. He snatched the remote from the end table and slid from the couch to the floor. He stretched out on one of the beds, his hands folded under the back of his head. "Don't tell her you heard, don't notice her puffy eyes, and whatever you bloody do, don't give her one of those pitying looks you've got patented, alright?"  
  
Angel frowned doubtfully. "We can't just ignore it."  
  
Spike rolled his eyes. "Yeah we can."  
  
"Maybe you can," Angel bit out, "but I can't."  
  
Sitting up, Spike glared at the other man. "Are you really this inept? 'Cause this crosses the line from endearingly awkward to just plain stupid."  
  
Angel didn't say anything, and Spike groaned again. There were just too many stubborn fools in this building and not a single compromising one who was sensible. He cocked his head, listening. The water was running in the bathroom.  
  
"It's what she does," he explained as though Angel was simple. "Gets rid of the stress and moves on." He was tempted to make a snide comment about Angel being used to the Slayer's melodramatic attention-getting crying jags, but figured it was way too soon to be breaking the truce. "You start trying to get in touch with her feelings, and it brings it all back. Defeats the purpose," he finished, lying back down.  
  
"How exactly is it you know what she *does*, Spike?" Angel asked, voice sharp and pointed.  
  
"Because, unlike you when you were helping the lot of them, I notice things non-Buffy related, you stupid git," he snapped back.  
  
The pipes squeaked as the water shut off, and Spike and Angel retreated to silence. Willow appeared a few minutes later, dressed in her pajamas and dragging herself along like only sheer will power was keeping her going.  
  
"Get the lights, Angel," Spike said, turning the television off and getting under the blanket. He smirked at Willow as she approached. "Come on, Red, you're in the middle."  
  
"Goody," she drawled, lying down. "Scourge of Europe bookends. Xander will be so jealous."  
  
"You're telling me. I've seen the sultry way he gazes at me when he thinks I'm not looking. I feel all violated," he said primly, huffing slightly in indignation.  
  
"You should sue," Willow suggested around a yawn, burrowing under the flap of her sleeping bag.  
  
"You set, Willow?" Angel called out then flipped off the lights at her nod.  
  
Spike heard Angel moving through the room to his bed. Silence reigned in the room, and Spike was surprised to find that despite the bone deep exhaustion, his mind wouldn't shut the fuck up for a long, long time.  
  
~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^  
  
One would have thought that the five people in Angel's place would have crowded one another, but the exact opposite was true, Willow admitted silently to herself four days later as she shut down the computer for the evening and headed downstairs.  
  
She barely saw the trio of conscious vampires until it was time to turn in for the day, and then that was only Spike and Angel. Drusilla always shared the bed with Dev, who Willow had yet to see. Not that she was clamoring to. Three quarters of the Scourge of Europe left the bedroom looking ill, and her poor human mind didn't want to contemplate what it took to disgust them.  
  
Neither was she all too keen on the idea of together time. Something had been swirling in the air since she'd gotten there, a something that was fraught with things unsaid and repressed, and trying to hide behind a guise of courteousness. Before this trip to L.A. she would have said no one would see the day when Spike would call Angel by his name and not insult him for an hour, much less four days. The tension was mounting, and she spent a good deal of time hoping to all that was holy that she would be well out of the way when it finally came to a head.  
  
Which is why she was surprised and a little anxious when she exited the stairwell and found all three vampires in the same room. Willow missed a step, and openly gaped. "Uh, hi," she stammered.  
  
The two men were across the room from one another, Spike smoking in the kitchen and seeming to be unable to remain still for even a second while the tic-tic-tic wracked the side of his face. Angel sat in the living room, in a chair that had been moved into the corner. She thought it had been moved even further into the shadows than it had already been. He wasn't brooding, though. He was glowering, and his fingers were tapping an angry staccato on the arms of the chair. Drusilla was draped across the couch, annoyance written across her pouty yet conniving features.  
  
"Spike--"  
  
"For the last fucking time, Dru, shut it," Spike shouted. "You're driving me bonkers, luv."  
  
Still the gently voiced endearments in the midst of his raised voice, even with all else that was hanging in the air.  
  
Drusilla jumped to her feet, rounding on Spike with golden eyes. "The walls are bumping me and my chest is full of dusty air."  
  
Spike tossed his hands up. "Oh, for the love of--your lungs are empty, just like they've been for--"  
  
"Be quiet, both of you," Angel snapped from the shadows. "You've been arguing for an hour, and it stops. Now."  
  
"Bite me," Spike growled. "I've had it up to here--" He cut one hand across his throat. "--with your sanctimonious crap. Play another bloody tune or take a crawl through the sewers."  
  
Willow was not the leader type. She did not take control of situations and direct their course, nor did she talk sense into people. Well, okay, sometimes she did. But mostly not. At that moment, however, she realized she had to do something to either calm them down, or distract them long enough so that she could make a break for it.  
  
"How about we go up to the roof?" Willow proffered desperately. "We can set up that baby monitor I got yesterday and get out of the building for a little bit."  
  
Willow saw Dru move to her, felt the cold arm wrap around her shoulders. "A bear of not-so-little brain, you are. I can clean my chest out and the boys can prowl like animals, stalking nothing but feeling better."  
  
"Um, yeah, sure," Willow drawled, cutting her eyes in Dru's direction a bit warily. She was supposed to be safe from an attack, but since she never understood even a tenth of what the vampire was saying, her comfort level really wasn't where it should have been.  
  
"I don't want to go up to the roof," Spike snarled, "with him."  
  
"Oh, but Spike," Dru sang, slithering her way to the blonde, "think of the stars. Could you pluck one from the sky for me, luv? Only for me?"  
  
Willow watched as Drusilla twisted around Spike, her hands never leaving his body and her eyes drifting open and shut as the lilting words meandered from her red, red mouth. Spike's eyes never left Dru's face as she cavorted around him, and Willow saw the softness in them, the fond indulgence that she'd never seen him offer anyone else.  
  
"I'll pluck a dozen of 'em, Princess," he husked, tangling his hand in her hair before she shifted around again. "Only and ever for you."  
  
"No," Dru sighed, smiling mysteriously. "But I've promised, haven't I? I remember.and no one else knows. I am always the one to remember, but I wish I wasn't."  
  
Dru was in front of Spike, her back to him. He stepped forward and his arms slunk around her waist to hold her tightly. She leaned back, and they swayed together. Spike's face was soft, his eyes downcast, as he leaned his head against hers.  
  
"Almost perfect," Dru murmured, and Willow saw that she was looking across the room to where Angel was sitting. "But an actor has missed his cue, hasn't he?"  
  
And there was more movement, this time from Angel, who crossed the living room with strides that brought to mind barely contained physicality, and joined the other vampires in the kitchen. Dru laughed happily and ran her fingers along his face and then Angel stepped closer, until he was pressed against Dru.  
  
Willow wished she could see his face, see if she could read anything on it, as one of his arms curled around both of the other vampires' waists and the other did the same to their shoulders. Spike had tensed, Willow noticed, his head lifting and an unreadable expression on his face as he looked at Angel. Then, slowly, his grip on Dru shifted until he was also touching Angel.  
  
*Guess I shouldn't miss* my *cue*, Willow thought frantically, not sure what the heck was going on, and very sure she didn't really want to know. She fled upstairs and shut herself in the bathroom in the offices.  
  
~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^  
  
Spike hadn't wanted Angel to come to him and Dru, hadn't wanted to stage a scene that had been played out many times before, more often than not also including Darla. But then he'd seen Angel's eyes, had seen that brief glimpse of the other man's self that no soul could touch, and repeated to himself Dru's earlier words: *an actor has missed his cue*. It was all a game, just pretend, and that was enough for him to include Angel in the scene.  
  
They stood that way for a long time, Spike and Angel's eyes locked, while Dru nestled between them contentedly, almost purring.  
  
He was vaguely aware of Willow's hasty retreat, but didn't think about it for long, as Angel had begun speaking. That look was still on his face, and now Spike could hear it in his voice. Cold steel tempered with warm fire.  
  
"This little set-up of ours isn't working the way it should," he said coldly, his eyes running over Spike's face. "You're barely civil to me, and Dru here won't listen to a word I say. That's going to change."  
  
"Yeah, right." He'd meant that to come out sarcastic and biting instead of low and confused, didn't think he'd do better next time, and settled for flipping Angel off.  
  
Angel's hand was around his, tightening until Spike felt several bones break. The dark vampire's faced had hardened, though there was still that damnable warmth in his eyes that was throwing Spike for a loop.  
  
Between them, Dru trembled.  
  
"None of that," Angel hissed. "You're Dru's. Dru and everything she has are mine. That leaves you with no one you're allowed to mouth off to, Spike. Do you need a reminder of that?" His lips pulled up, a cruel twisting that had Spike's stomach clenching in response.  
  
Thoughts flew through Spike's mind like a whirlwind, but none touched down long enough for him to snatch him. "Sod off," he whispered harshly, knowing it was about the stupidest thing he could say but failing to stop the words from coming.  
  
Angel's smile widened. "So what I'm hearing is that you need a reminder, huh?"  
  
His head moved faster than Spike could see, then Angel's tongue thrust into his mouth. It wasn't a kiss. It was Angel telling him what was about to happen. Before he'd adjusted to the intrusion, it was gone, and Spike was left tense and unsure of what the hell he was going to do.  
  
*Angel* was not Dru's sire, and this went beyond the little game of pretend he'd agreed to play. But he was there with the two of them, and even if it wasn't old times and even if he really hadn't put his heart into the charade, there was something so tempting about it. Dev was there too, wasn't she? Just like at the end of the last time that it had been Angelus, Drusilla and Spike, without Darla and her constant bitching.  
  
Except.that hadn't been Angelus, had it? Which, granted, explained the lack of Darla the Bitch, but not why that time had been one of Spike's more favorite memories of Angelus until he'd found out about the soul. He realized--not for the first time, but in a new way--that the only thing that had been different during that last trip had been Angelus' sudden penchant for hunting alone. Everything else had been exactly as it had always been.  
  
This last thought, combined with his own silent admission that it was tempting, was what made him smirk at Angel and say, "Go twiddle yourself, wanker."  
  
Spike watched as the veneer of harmlessness slowly faded from Angel. "I was hoping you'd say that."  
  
~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^  
  
Fifteen minutes later, Willow pressed against the sofa in the main office, her eyes wide, and resolutely forced herself not to think about why she had just turned up the volume on the small radio on Cordy's desk until the knob wouldn't go any further.  
  
~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^  
  
It took several hours for Angel to remind Spike and Dru of why they would be listening to him from now on. Time was, it had taken days, but the situation didn't allow for it. Dev had to be fed, and Willow was probably a blushing mess of nerves upstairs. Despite that, it had definitely been a reminder that Spike wasn't soon going to forget, and Angel's slight smirk let him know that the other vampire knew it. He rolled his eyes at Angel's smugness, not having the desire to dredge up the energy for anything else.  
  
He was lying on the kitchen floor, still twitching slightly, Dru curled up between him and Angel. It had been telling, the inclusion of Dru. The last time Angelus had really been around, in Sunnydale, everything had been screwed up six ways from Sunday, thanks to Angelus' obsession with the Slayer. Angelus had reestablished dominance over Dru in the usual manner, but had virtually ignored Spike unless it was to mock him cruelly. He'd also kept Dru from Spike as much as possible, just to twist the knife a little more.  
  
This time, though, there had been no games beyond restoring the natural order of their little "family", and Spike wasn't complaining.  
  
He felt Dru become leaden against him, glanced down and found that she had fallen asleep. Angel touched her face, and Spike saw that he was watching her with hooded eyes. He had a good idea of what was going through the other vampire's mind.  
  
"Do you think that Dev would--"  
  
"No."  
  
The hand flinched back. Dev would never introduce the sane Drusilla to Angel. Though she was reticent about a great many things, she'd never made a secret of the feelings of protectiveness she harbored for her loved ones. Of which Angel was one. Showing him what he'd destroyed would hurt him, and Dev would not allow that.  
  
Angel appeared to shake himself free of his morbid thoughts. Well, as much as he could, at any rate. "We'll sleep in the bedroom tonight. Take Dru in. I'll call Willow and move the beds."  
  
As Spike rose and lifted Dru into his arms, he felt a quick surge of gratitude at Angel's gesture. Dru would be distressed to wake up without them after having fallen asleep with them. Continuity worked wonders when it came to keeping her calm.  
  
He waited while Angel found the cordless phone and called the office. Spike could hear the cheerleader's voice as the machine picked up.  
  
"Willow, pick up, it's Angel. Willow?" A moment later, she apparently answered, because Angel continued with, "Finish up what you're doing and get some sleep. You'll have the living room to yourself tonight.  
  
The bedding was moved and after they fed Dev again, Spike gently biting Dru to get her blood, the three of them settled down to sleep. It was the first night since he'd been in Los Angeles that Spike fell asleep without trouble.  
  
~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^ 


	4. Part 4

Author's Note: You know how the summary says "W/S eventually"? Well, it should say "W/S at some far off point" because it really doesn't happen quickly. Partly due to the convoluted/complex/shoot-me-in-the-head-now plot, but also because...see, I love W/S. Really. I eat it up. But when I started writing this, I just couldn't stick them together after ten pages. And I honestly tried. Very, very hard. It just didn't work. Sooooo, we get to wind through the complex plot and get to a point when they *can* get stuck together.  
  
I just thought I'd make that clear, so that my fellow W/S lovers didn't check out each part and wonder where the heck the W/S is.  
  
~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^  
  
Willow couldn't look at any of them the next day. The brief moments when she saw Angel, Spike or Dru, Willow lowered her eyes and left the room in a hurry, mumbling an excuse the first time but not bothering after that.  
  
Angel ignored her reactions, acting like nothing had happened. Spike, on the other hand, seemed to be taking an inordinate amount of pleasure out of making snarky comments that made it impossible for her to pretend that what had happened the previous night hadn't actually happened.  
  
Willow didn't think it was very fair of him to play that particular game when his victory was guaranteed. It wasn't even stealing candy from a baby; it was having the baby happily hand it over.  
  
Her devoted efforts of distraction the previous night had gained her some headway into Dev's system. She'd gotten through the firewall, but had come up against a password protection system that required five strings of characters. Any decryption program would take weeks to break the security measure, and she was at an impasse.  
  
Perhaps if she could bring herself to speak to Spike or Angel, she'd be able to get some ideas on the passwords. But so far, she hadn't had any luck with that endeavor.  
  
The door to the stairs burst open, and Angel stalked into the room, anger just dripping from him. "We need your help. Now," he snapped, hurrying out again.  
  
Willow blinked, then jumped to her feet and chased after him. He was at the bedroom door, staring in with a worried look on his face.  
  
"Angel, what is it?" Willow asked.  
  
"We're done waiting," he said tightly. "We need you to.anything. We need anything."  
  
Her trunk was in the corner, and she went to it, pulling out the ingredients and materials she'd need for a simple healing spell. It was one that she'd performed on herself, as well as the Scoobies and even Spike on one occasion. Her arms full, she took a step, then paused. "I'll need to go in there," she said softly.  
  
"Bloody hell, she is *not* coming in here," Spike shouted furiously. Willow heard footsteps, then he was standing next to Angel. He glared at Willow, both brows lowered, and his cheek ticking. "Do it from out there."  
  
"Look," Willow said with a sigh, "I really don't want to go in there, and I wouldn't if I could help it. You've seen what I have to do to perform the healing spell. I need contact."  
  
"I said no."  
  
"Angel?" Willow ventured.  
  
He nodded once, a jerky motion that had Willow's neck hurting sympathetically.  
  
"Spike, turn out the lights in there. All of them," he ordered. Willow thought Spike would argue, but Angel grabbed his shirt front, told him again to do it, and Spike actually complied. "Willow, come here."  
  
He was careful to keep his body in front of the door as she went to his side. "What kind of contact do you need?" he wanted to know.  
  
"Any," she told him easily. "Holding her hand would work."  
  
He nodded again, then told her to close her eyes. Once she had, he took her hand and led her into the bedroom, bringing her to a stop after only a step. She heard the door close, and then Angel said she could open her eyes.  
  
The darkness was absolute. There were no windows in this room, and the small amount of light coming from under the door was only enough to be helpful if she didn't move.  
  
"Spike, she hurts, she hurts so much and it won't stop," Dru cried out, sounding as though she was sobbing.  
  
"Do something," Spike snarled, and she took a step back.  
  
"I can't see," she reminded them all, and Angel took hold of her arm again, leading her further into the room. Her knees bumped against the bed and she stopped. Angel lifted one of her hands and moved it forward, until she was clutching cold skin that was wet with something she didn't want to think about.  
  
She took a deep breath. "Okay, can you see what I'm holding clearly, Angel?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
His keen sight allowed him to work as her eyes, mixing the ingredients and touching them to her and Dev's foreheads, handing Willow the crystal to hang around her neck so that it touched her heart, and placing a matching crystal on Dev's chest,  
  
When that was done, Willow recited the spell, and felt it reverse on her, as though it had been directed at a mirror. Her stomach clenched.  
  
"Someone's done something," Willow murmured. "They've.blocked anything that might be cast on her. I'll break it and do the healing spell again."  
  
She asked Angel to procure a few other items from her trunk, quickly closing her eyes so that the light from the living room wouldn't illuminate the figure on the bed. When Angel returned, he assisted her with casting the circle and handed her the small knife. She cut into her palm, placed her hand in Dev's again, and nodded in the direction she thought Angel was located. He fed her the words, which he read from the book she'd asked him to get. Willow recited them, felt the power building in her, and then shot it at Dev when it had culminated.  
  
Willow heard herself screaming for an eternity before her knees gave out and her body shut down.  
  
~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^  
  
Angel tried to get to Willow, but the circle prevented him from reaching her. It wasn't until she slumped to the floor, breaking the circle from the inside, that he was able to take her into his arms.  
  
"Willow? Willow?" he called out, but she didn't hear. She was deadweight, but her pulse and breathing were normal. "Damn. Spike, get the door."  
  
He carried Willow into the living room, settling her slight frame on the sofa. Spike and Dru had followed him, and he turned to them furiously. "What the hell happened?"  
  
Spike slowly shook his head, his wide eyes on Willow. "No clue," he murmured.  
  
"Dru?" Angel asked, pivoting his head to look at her. "What happened to Willow?"  
  
"It returned to her," Dru whispered, her eyes still wet with tears, her lips opened in a wordless gasp. "Took the breath from her lungs with her scream, then stole her away into the night."  
  
Spike cursed softly. "She probably tried to ram her way through whatever they did to Dev, but it reflected back."  
  
"Is it permanent, Dru? Will she wake up?"  
  
"Yes." Her hands fluttered back and forth. "Thoughts criss-crossing, like shoelaces on a boot."  
  
Whatever had happened to Willow had scrambled her head for the time being. Their only hope was going to be unconscious until it ran its course. "Damn it," he snapped, clenching his fists.  
  
~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^  
  
Spike was sitting with Willow several hours later when she finally stirred. He watched as her face pulled into a frown, and a groan issued from her throat. One small hand lifted only an inch before it fell back to position on her stomach. "Oh, god," she whispered, her eyes opening slowly.  
  
"How are you feeling?" Spike asked quietly.  
  
All other movement ceased as she turned her head in his direction. Spike noticed that her eyes were glazed, that she didn't recognize him. She blinked once, twice, then her face paled, her body convulsed, and it was too late for Spike to even try to get her to the bathroom, because she'd already been sick all over her chest and stomach.  
  
She was shaking as he carried her into the bathroom and set her on the toilet, and too distraught to make even a token protest when he removed her shirt and tossed it into the bathroom garbage. After thinking about it, he left her bra on, even though the vomit had soaked it as well. He didn't think she'd remain calm if he tried to take it off. Instead, he wet down a washcloth and wiped the mess from her face and neck, rinsing it several times as he did so.  
  
"Rinse your mouth, pet, and I'll get you clothing to change into, okay?" She sat there, adrift in the tiny bathroom and motionless, and Spike closed his eyes for a second. "Right, then. You're not concerned."  
  
The bra joined the shirt. "Don't need the theatrics to get me to strip you, pet," he said absently as he wet the washcloth again. "But you women always have to have the drama, don't you? Always thought you above that shite, myself."  
  
Another round with the washcloth, across her breasts this time. In other circumstances, he'd have made at least a comment about her nudity, probably even tried something. But this.she was as rigid as marble under his hands, a waxy and dead feeling to her that was less alive than a vampire.  
  
He snorted as he tossed the soiled cloth into the sink. He knew this. He'd seen it, dealt with it, hundreds of times with Drusilla. Willow's teeth began chattering. Spike was on his haunches in front of her, and he raised his eyes to her face. Whatever she was seeing, it wasn't actually there. Her eyes were focused inwards, on something that had scared the living daylights out of her. Dru got that way sometimes, got lost in the chaotic thoughts that ran through her mind and couldn't be contained or understood. But somehow, he didn't think a good whipping would snap Willow away from wherever she was trapped.  
  
"Yeah, you couldn't do this on Angel's shift, could you?" Spike took a towel from the rack behind him and wrapped it around her shoulders. Only when he put her hands on the edges and tightened her fingers around them did she keep the towel in place. "Where is he, you ask? Went with Dru to that sleazy mate of his for blood." He rolled his eyes and lifted her, standing her in front of the sink. She wouldn't stay upright of her own accord, so he braced her with an arm around her waist and filled the bathroom cup with water, then held it to her lips.  
  
"Take a sip," he instructed. "You know, swish it around and such."  
  
She didn't move, so he put the cup to her lips and tilted it until water dribbled into her mouth. Dutifully, she followed her instructions, swishing the water until he told her to spit it out.  
  
"Not brushing your teeth for you," he said peevishly. "Not that much of a Nancy Boy. All right, then, up we go." He carried her to the living room, set her on the sofa again and retrieved a shirt from her suitcase. She cooperated nicely as he slipped it over her head and then maneuvered her arms through it. "Now, this'll be our secret, right?" he said sternly. "You tell anyone, and I'll deny it."  
  
When he made a move to leave, a choked noise emanated from Willow's throat and her hands grabbed for him. "For crying out loud," he groaned, sitting next to her. "Don't you have a wubbie for this type of thing? What about a bear?" he added as an afterthought. "I thought most humans had something of the sort."  
  
"D-d-d-o you?"  
  
Spike slanted his eyes in her direction. "Pet, I'm an Evil Master Vampire," he drawled, rolling his eyes. "We're the *reason* people have wubbies."  
  
She didn't laugh, but she did lean her head on his shoulder, which had Spike thinking she was getting worse, because--Evil Master Vampire? Cuddling? Willow was too smart to think the two went together. "Is it too much to ask to for a few days in a row where someone isn't a mess for some reason or other?" he grumbled, vexed beyond belief.  
  
He kept talking about nothing in particular, a trick that worked sometimes on Dru when a whipping didn't. Pretty soon, Willow had slid down his shoulder, and his chest, until her head was pillowed on his thigh. Not that much of a Nancy Boy, he'd said? Well past it, it seemed.  
  
He snagged the remote from the table next to the sofa, and turned on the television.  
  
**  
  
Willow woke up alone. She was in the living room, but not on one of the beds. The familiar black leather sofa met her eyes when they opened, and she sat up. Why was she there? She couldn't remember at first, but the details came. The healing spell, then attempting to break the shield-like barrier around Dev. Brief flashes of the bathroom, and a calming voice. Then waking up.  
  
But that wasn't all she remembered. Her stomach churned and her breath came fast and hard, terror overcoming her. The walls were closing in on her, and she ran. Up the stairs, to the roof, because she had to scream or cry or hurl herself from the top of the building, or anything that would make her forget or have never known just how frightened Dev was.  
  
She slammed the roof door open, sucking in huge gulps of air, falling to her hands and knees and rejoicing in the lack of confinement. She crawled to the waist-high wall, leaned against it and pulled her knees to her chest. Her head dropped down, and she sobbed until she was too exhausted to do so.  
  
That's how Spike found her.  
  
~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^  
  
They heard her run from the living room, and Angel immediately started to follow. But Spike stopped him with a hand on his chest, and shook his head.  
  
"I'll go," he offered grimly. Angel merely stared at him, and Spike clenched his teeth. "Look, no offense, but you're too damn comforting."  
  
"What the hell does that mean?" Angel snapped, pulling away.  
  
"There is no time for soft words," Dru sang sadly, her eyes far away, "only firm hands."  
  
"Yeah, what she said," Spike said immediately.  
  
Angel pointed at him, his eyes hard. "Not literally, Spike, and I mean it."  
  
A thousand snide comments wanted to be said, but Spike tamped them down and settled on nodding in agreement with Angel. Though he wondered why the hell Angel thought he'd go up to the roof and beat the shit out of Willow. He might as well just stake Dev here and now. Same end result.  
  
"Idiot," he mumbled to himself as he climbed the stairs to the roof.  
  
She was sitting on the ground, her back against the waist-high ledge, her knees up against her chest and her arms wrapped around her calves. He sat next to her and regarded her with critical eyes. She seemed to be in her right mind, just in shock.  
  
"What's going on?"  
  
"Tell me about Dev," Willow pleaded desperately, rocking back and forth.  
  
"What? Why?" Spike asked in confusion.  
  
"Terror," Willow choked. "She's wrapped in terror."  
  
Spike doubled over, psychological pain manifesting itself by way of his stomach tightening beyond belief.  
  
"Tell me about her. Tell me! I can't keep thinking of her feeling that way, I need to know something--anything--else besides the terror."  
  
And this sentiment, Spike understood. For the past few days he'd been diving into his memories of the vampire he'd sired with Angel and Drusilla, focusing on images of her when she was whole and alive. Willow didn't have those memories, and for someone as sensitive as she was, experiencing Dev's fear would take over her mind.  
  
"Dev," Spike began in a soft, somber voice, sitting up, "is almost beyond words. I don't even know where to bloody begin."  
  
"What does she look like?" Willow asked quietly. "Describe her to me," she breathed, closing her eyes.  
  
Spike's face softened at the desperation in her voice. "She's about your height," he recited gently. "Don't let that fool you though. She's got three powerful sires, and she's no slouch either." His lips quirked. "And she bloody well knows it. You think I'm arrogant? Hell, you should see the way Dev walks around, like the queen shit."  
  
He pulled out his cigarettes and lit one, then rested more comfortable against the bricks. He stretched his legs out and crossed them at the ankles.  
  
"Angel gives her a hard time about it," Spike snickered. "He's always all, 'you're just inviting attacks by being so cocky.' She can't be any other way though," he informed Willow. "It's part of my demon, so it's a part of hers."  
  
He inhaled deeply on his cigarette then exhaled. "Got these big, blue eyes. I've always said you can tell exactly what kind of mood she's in by those eyes. When she's about to rip into you they get dark, almost navy blue. When she's tickled to death about some stupid thing or other, they're all sparkly and shit." He waved his hand negligently. "The walking dead skin color, is a given. What else? Oh, Her hair. Damn her and the hair dye," he said mournfully.  
  
Willow chuckled rawly, and he noticed that she'd opened her eyes.  
  
"Hey, I look better this way," Spike said indignantly, touching his dyed blond hair. "Dev looks like she melted a bloody crayon on her head. Her hair is blacker than sin." He curled his lips. "The insane chit dyed it purple, of all things. It's bloody unnatural!" he added self-righteously.  
  
"Go on," Willow urged him.  
  
"She laughs a lot," he said after a moment. "Loves to laugh, actually. Not that she's easygoing," he hastened to add. He smiled fondly. "Even with her soul she can be damned remorseless." His eyes met Willow's, and he tilted his head. "She likes kittens, too," he added incongruously, then felt the need to clarify that statement. "To play with, not to eat."  
  
"I don't know what it was."  
  
Spike blinked. "No idea?"  
  
"Just that there's terror surrounding her," Willow whispered, and Spike saw her knuckles whiten as she tightened her grip on her calves. "I don't know where it's coming from, or why it's.enveloping her." She shook her head sadly. "But I'll figure something out. I won't let her stay like that, feeling like that. I won't!"  
  
"She's tough," he told her again. "She'll deal until you come up with something." Where had his cigarette gone? Hm. He lit another one, and stayed Willow with a hand on her shoulder when she would have gotten up. "Stay put," he instructed. "That reverb from Dev knocked you out. Get yourself steady before you start charging around on yet another mission."  
  
"Um, okay," Willow stammered.  
  
Willow began fidgeting when Spike didn't say anything else. From the corner of his eye, he could see her glance quickly at him several times, and open her mouth once before snapping it shut again.  
  
"What is it now?" he asked, knowing that he sounded as put-upon as he felt, and not giving a shit.  
  
"You've been calling him Angel," she blurted out, her eyes still focused on the roof beneath her. "What's up with that?" She waved her hands anxiously. "And, please, feel free to leave out the details. Seriously. No details needed."  
  
A nasty smirk pulled at his lips. "Come on, don't you want to know who licked where, who bit who, who fu--"  
  
"Lalalalala, I can't hear you," Willow almost shouted, her hands clapped over her ears. "Not listening. Nope. Not a word."  
  
Spike pulled one hand down and laughed. "You'd think that this wouldn't be so fun since it's so easy. But, no. Fun as hell."  
  
She glared at him. "Oh, please," she snapped, anger making her eyes glitter like emeralds, making her words less cautious than usual. "Like I don't already know? You made the beast with three backs, filling each other with your naughty seeds, then cuddled like a bunch of ferrets for the rest of the night. Oh, how *thrilling*. Please, do tell all about the Scourge-y sexcapades, because I'm sure it's nothing that's ever been done before."  
  
Spike howled. "Naughty seeds?" he gasped between laughter. "Ferrets?"  
  
"Shut up," she snapped, blushing in mortification. Dear lord, she'd just talked to Spike like he was Xander. He was never going to let her live it down. When Spike continued to laugh uproariously, she buried her face in her hands. "Oh, God, just toss me off the building."  
  
"Ferrets!?!? Bloody priceless."  
  
He was still laughing when she stomped away.  
  
~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^  
  
Willow knew she was still redder than she'd ever been when she entered the living room. But who could blame her? She'd just given Spike enough ammunition on her for about ten years, and all because she'd forgotten just who she'd been talking to.  
  
Angel was in the process of slamming the phone down when she came in, cursing more than she'd ever heard him curse, and then rounding on her with preternatural speed.  
  
"Where's Spike?" he demanded furiously.  
  
"Roof," Willow told him, frowning. "What's going on?"  
  
"Cordy had a vision of us being attacked and Dev getting taken away. We need to get out of here. Now. Pack all of your stuff, and anything else that might make it obvious someone besides me was here."  
  
Angel went to the roof, and Willow was cleaning out the bathroom when Spike came down. "Me and Dru will take care of the bedroom," he called out. "You take care of everything else." He poked his head into the bathroom. "And I mean everything. Got it?"  
  
She nodded and continued erasing their existence from the bathroom. "Where's Angel?"  
  
"Getting transportation," he said, walking away.  
  
An hour later, just before dawn, Angel returned. He made a sweep of the apartment and offices, his eyes raking over every inch of every room, and came back downstairs with a few items Willow had missed. Namely, notepads she'd used and on which he'd scribbled in pencil, revealing what she'd written, a stray sock of hers--and how had that gotten in the office?--and the desktop computer from Cordy's desk.  
  
Drusilla was flittering about the apartment, her eyes wide and her hands tearing at her hair. Spike ushered her back into the bedroom, telling her to get Dev ready to go. Then he and Angel began carrying their things out, including the trash bags Willow had filled with the food from the kitchen. Food that Angel would not have on hand, considering that he'd spread the word on the street that the office was closed for two weeks. A well- deserved vacation, he'd told everyone. The blood was stored in coolers, and Willow had seen Spike take a look at it, then turn his eyes to Angel, who'd nodded tightly.  
  
She refused to think about what that meant, even when Spike took off for half an hour and came back looking grimly satisfied.  
  
They put the living room furniture back in its proper place, and Willow folded up the bedding and stored it in the bathroom cupboards. She was on some kind of autopilot, she realized, doing what they'd told her and not asking questions. There didn't seem to be time for them, and for the first time in Willow's life, she wasn't clamoring to ask. Lately, she never got the answers she wanted to hear.  
  
"We're loaded," Spike said as he entered the living room from the stair well. "How are we doing this?"  
  
Angel tossed a set of keys at Willow, and she caught them instinctively. "You two go to the van. Willow's going to have to drive for now. Dru and I will bring Dev up."  
  
"What about your car?" Willow asked hesitantly, clutching the keys in her hand. "And Spike's?"  
  
"I hid them," Angel said tersely. "Go."  
  
Willow grabbed her small suitcase, the only thing left to take with them, and followed Spike to the garage. A hulking white van was parked to their left, the back and side doors open. A cargo van, actually. The only real seats were the two in front. On the floor in the back were blankets, presumably for Dev. The rest of the stuff they were bringing with them was stashed around the bed.  
  
Spike took the suitcase from her and tossed it carelessly in the back. "Right, can you drive this?" he asked as he lit a cigarette and glared at the van.  
  
Willow considered it. The back was separated from the front with a divider, which meant she'd have to rely solely on the side view mirrors to navigate. And she also had a sneaking suspicion that it was going to beep when she put it into reverse. The correct answer was, a strong maybe. But looking at Spike's tense and twitching features, she knew he didn't want to hear that.  
  
"Yeah, I'll be fine."  
  
His mouth opened and closed several times before he shoved his cigarette between his lips and cursed. He stomped over to her, removed the cigarette again, and placed both hands on her shoulders.  
  
"You didn't sign up for this, and I don't really care that you have to deal with it," he said clearly. Willow rolled her eyes. "We can't just let you out of it now, you hear?" She nodded, careful not to be too emphatic in case his cigarette singed her hair. "So, from this point on, suck it up. No more of these hysterics and shit. I don't give a bloody hell what's going on, you keep yourself together."  
  
He shook her forcefully and narrowed his eyes. Willow swallowed as she faced down William the Bloody. "It's going to get worse, isn't it?" she asked in a small voice.  
  
Spike closed his eyes. "My opinion? It's been a walk in the bleedin' park so far." His lids raised, and he tilted his head to the side. "They're coming." The hands on her shoulders turned her around and pushed her none- too-gently towards the driver's side door. "In you go."  
  
Willow climbed in and turned on the ignition. The radio blared to life, Spanish music that was just too jaunty and full of movement for her current mood. She punched the "off" button with more force than necessary then adjusted her mirrors. She heard the vampires moving in the back, loading Dev in. Drusilla was humming softly, murmuring quiet words that Willow thought were directed at her unconscious childe, who was probably not happy about being hauled around.  
  
She jumped when someone knocked on her window, saw Angel, and lowered it. "East," he said before walking round the back of the van.  
  
There were a pair of sunglasses sat on the passenger seat, and she slipped them on. When Spike called out a few minutes later that they were ready, she put the car in drive and they started out.  
  
As the bright morning sun made her squint even with the sunglasses on, Willow wondered when she'd be able to rest, just put her guard down and not have to worry about anymore unpleasant surprises.  
  
~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^  
  
After taking time at a red light to consult a road map she'd found tucked between the front seats, Willow had driven East. It had been easy. A brief trip on I-10, then over to I-15 and then they'd been on I-40 and Willow was able to put the map away and just drive, stopping for food and bathrooms when necessary.  
  
When dusk came, they were in Santa Fe. Willow was grateful when Angel told her to find a hotel for them to stay at. A few minutes later, she saw the Motel 6 and pulled off of I-25.  
  
After a few wrong turns, she finally pulled the van to a stop and shut off the engine. Her eyes were burning and her head was pounding. Angel once again appeared at her window, this time with a wad of cash and instructions to get them two adjoining rooms. He was gone almost as quickly as he'd appeared, and Willow curled her lip in useless frustration.  
  
"Yeah, sure, just call me Renfield," she muttered sarcastically as she practically fell out of the van.  
  
A middle-aged woman was on duty in the fluorescent lobby. Willow made her way to the counter, twitching in time with a flickered bulb above her head. "I need two rooms, please. Adjoining. Can I get adjoining?" she asked tiredly.  
  
"You sure can, dear," the woman replied brightly, consulting her computer and typing for a moment. "First or second floor?"  
  
Blinking, Willow forced her brain to focus. "First," she said slowly, hesitantly. Then she nodded and repeated it more firmly. "Round the back, if you can manage it. Away from the highway," she added when the woman frowned in confusion.  
  
Five minutes later she was holding two card keys in her hand. They had smoking rooms, which would appease Spike, and several cable channels, which she was looking forward to losing herself in until the woman continued her spiel of amenities.  
  
".and of course we have data ports in all the rooms."  
  
"Thanks," Willow said weakly, backing out of the lobby.  
  
She pulled the van around where the woman had told her and exited it once again. Walking to the back doors, she knocked briefly and they opened several inches, one of Spike's blue eyes peering out at her. She handed him a card key and walked away without offering to help, because she really didn't want to and knew that they wouldn't let her.  
  
How much longer that was going to last, she didn't know. Soon, they were going to stop trying to protect her from the sight of Dev, not because they wanted to twist her up a little bit more, but because it would become inconvenient. And as Spike had said, she was going to have to be able to suck it up. But not right then, when she was exhausted and confused and still trying to process all that had happened since the healing spell.  
  
She let herself into the hotel room, hoping Angel would think to bring her stuff in, and turned the lights on. The room was small, but it had the two most beautiful pieces of furniture in it: real life beds. And they were big, too. Groaning hugely, Willow quickly moved past them and entered the small bathroom. She washed her faced and was drying it with a towel when a knock sounded.  
  
She was almost at the main door before she realized it was coming from the adjoining door. Changing direction, she released the bolt and opened the door. Spike was there, the door on his side open as well. Willow stepped aside and let him in, noticing as she did so that he was holding her suitcase and laptop.  
  
"Do you need that damned monstrosity?" he asked grumpily as he tossed the laptop on the bed.  
  
"The what? Oh, Cordy's computer?" Spike nodded and Willow shook her head. "No, I pulled everything I needed from it. Angel didn't need to bring it."  
  
"Good, then we'll bloody toss the damned thing," he mumbled, running a hand through his hair. "Angel's staying in here with you."  
  
Willow's eyes widened. "Uh, why? I mean, aren't there two beds in your room?"  
  
"Yes, there are, but he doesn't think it's a good idea for you to be in here alone and unprotected," Spike snorted. He raised a cynical eyebrow. "Maybe a stake pressed against his chest would convince him, eh?"  
  
Blushing, Willow shrugged. "Yeah, uh, I'm not going to apologize for doing that," she said awkwardly.  
  
"I'd lose the small grain of respect I have for you if you apologize," Spike said absently. "Okay, so, we're only going to be here for a few hours before we find someplace more permanent, so make the most of it."  
  
Willow nodded, and then Spike left, closing both adjoining doors. Grabbing the laptop, Willow set it up at the desk and went to work. She wasn't very successful, as her mind kept racing with the events of the past week. Sighing, she leaned back and pressed her hand to her forehead. "Stop it, brain. I mean it. Focus, darn it!"  
  
And it did, so suddenly and abruptly that Willow sat up immediately and stared at the screen in front of her. "No," she breathed, her fingers flying over the keyboard. "It can't be that easy. In fact, I'm going to have to hurt myself if it is, because I'm an idiot."  
  
She pulled up the document from her talk with Angel and Spike, her first day in L.A., and scrolled to the bottom. She stared at the paragraph, toggled to the encryption screen of Dev's system, and cautiously typed in the words that Dev had said to Spike when she'd briefly woken up.  
  
Branch.*tab*.leaves.*tab*.root.*tab*.crying.*tab*.tree.  
  
And she was in.  
  
"You're supposed to be in bed."  
  
Willow shrieked and pressed a hand against her racing heart. "God, Angel, don't *do* that," she gasped, staring at him.  
  
He shrugged an apology and took off his coat. "I told Spike to tell you to go to bed."  
  
Trust Spike not to relay the message exactly as it had been given. Willow rolled her eyes, then bounded from the computer and yanked on Angel's arm. "I got into Dev's system, Angel!" she told him excitedly. "I'm in."  
  
"How?" he asked urgently. "I thought--"  
  
"She gave us the passwords," Willow interrupted, pulling him to the desk. "When she woke up. I haven't had a chance to look around yet, but I'm in."  
  
Angel was leaning above her as she sat at the desk, and she felt his eyes on her. Turning her head, she saw the flat look in them. "Find what we need," he told her quietly.  
  
"I will," she promised in kind, turning back to the screen.  
  
An hour later, she blinked and looked around the room. Angel was lying on his back on one of the beds, hands folded under his head, eyes on the ceiling. "Angel?"  
  
"What?"  
  
Willow sighed and reached up to massage her aching shoulders. "The Analects," she began. "Dev translated most of it and stored it on her system, but none of it makes sense. It's like."  
  
He rolled his head and looked at her. "They're fragments," Angel supplied for her. "Bits and pieces meant to lead the reader to the books that contain the prophecies."  
  
"So not helpful," Willow said, frowning.  
  
"She wouldn't have just translated the Analects and left it at that," Angel said eventually. "Keep looking."  
  
Willow did. What she found was a complex database pertaining to the Analects, but there seemed to be no point of entry from which to access anything. Half the tables were linked from an FTP site, while the other half resided on Dev's hard drive. On first glance, it appeared to make no sense whatsoever. But as Willow studied the tables and reports, she began to see one. Dev had built an entire relational database for the Analects.  
  
Clicking here and there, Willow saw how it all came together. Each translated portion of the Analects coincided to several other tables, which included translations and transcripts of the texts the Analects had lead her to. From there, Willow found another table in which Dev had written out in plain English, what it all meant. For those events that had already passed, there was a description of what exactly had happened. For those that had yet to occur, Dev had done her best to hypothesize everything that would happen, including dates, times, locations and parties involved.  
  
The only problem was, Willow couldn't immediately see how they were joined and didn't know how to match up the tables properly. Dev was apparently a very careful vampire. Willow had all of the tables open and was analyzing them when the adjoining door flew open.  
  
"Cheerleader called," Spike snarled. "We've got to move."  
  
~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^  
  
Willow dropped the keys off in the office, explaining that she'd changed her mind about staying the night, and hurried out to the van. Angel was behind the wheel, with Spike, Dev and Drusilla in the back. Willow climbed into the passenger seat, and Angel took off without a word.  
  
She slept somewhat fitfully, waking only when Angel called her name and told her to take over. Willow glanced out the window and saw that they were in a rest area, and that dawn was fast approaching. Angel handed her a cup of coffee, and she took it before exiting the van and walking around to the driver's seat.  
  
"Where are we?" she asked groggily.  
  
"Not sure," Angel said tiredly. "But we're going to Wichita."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Why not?" he replied tightly. "Just follow the signs"  
  
Getting behind the wheel, Willow started the van and pulled out the rest stop onto I-40. She sipped her coffee and adjusted the hat on her head.  
  
She wondered what they were going to do. Neither of Cordy's visions had provided any information about who was after them, or how they were tracking them. All she had seen were the five of them getting attacked, first in L.A. and then in Santa Fe. Until they figured out how the bad guys were finding them, they were going to have to stay on the move. It was a vicious circle, that, because staying on the move meant they didn't have time to figure it out.  
  
She wished that they'd made better use out of the time they'd had in Los Angeles.  
  
~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^  
  
They only had seven hours in Wichita before Cordy called Angel's cell phone again. Spike tensed when the small phone chirped, then resigned himself to the fact that they were once again only a few steps ahead of their pursuers.  
  
He went into the room Willow was in, and found her sleeping at the desk, her face pressed against the keyboard of the laptop. He was reluctant to wake her, seeing as how she'd driven most of the day, with barely any sleep the previous night. Spike was going to be driving the first leg of their next trip, but she'd have to take over yet again once dawn was upon them.  
  
He didn't fancy their chances at continuing safely if she was a blink away from falling asleep at the wheel. That decided, he lifted her head from the computer and unhooked the machine from the wall. He packed it in the padded case and took it, along with her suitcase, to the van.  
  
Angel looked at him curiously. "Where's Willow?"  
  
"Fell asleep," Spike said as he put her belongings in the van, behind Dev's head. "I'll bring her out and put in the front. She'll have to take over soon," he explained, looking up at the sky.  
  
Looking back at Angel, he saw an unreadable expression on the vampire's face. Then it was gone, as the frustration they were all feeling returned to Angel's features. "I'll turn the keys in. Get Dru and Willow and meet me around front."  
  
Spike carried Willow out to the van, propping her in the passenger seat and then curling the seatbelt around her malleable form, before returning to his room for Dru. She was sitting cross-legged on the bed, her eyes watching him with no small amount of fear.  
  
"They won't give up," she whispered, tears filling her dark eyes. "They'll come and come and come, and we can't run fast enough or far enough. They want her, need her, and they won't let her go."  
  
Spike sat next to her and pulled her into his arms. "We'll figure it out, pet," he told her gently, even though he wasn't at all sure that they would. "We won't let them get her."  
  
"It's not just our Devil, Spike," Drusilla cried harshly. "They'll want *her* too, and they'll get her even if it's not the way they mean to. She'll be turned inside out, until her organs glisten and weep wherever she goes. You'll think it a thing of great beauty, my darling Spike."  
  
Spike stilled, and Drusilla turned in his arms. Her hands snaked up to his face, gripping it tightly. "And it *will* be," Dru whispered, her mouth inches from his. "As beautiful as anything we've ever done, luv. Spectacular like our most favorite dreams, and our former nightmares." She paused, and Spike blinked slowly as her eyes ran across his features and her hands caressed his cheeks. "And they will win," she said flatly, fire blazing in the depths of her brown eyes.  
  
"Let's go!" Spike heard Angel hiss.  
  
He looked away from Drusilla's hypnotic gaze and saw Angel standing at the door, fury written on every inch of his body.  
  
Somewhat dazed, Spike led Dru from the room then handed her off to Angel at the back of the van. Taking the keys from Angel, Spike got behind the wheel, his troubled gaze touching on Willow as he started the engine.  
  
~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^  
  
Several hours later, Spike watched her wake suddenly, her eyes flinging open and staring out with panic at the latest rest stop they'd arrived at. He even heard her heart race frantically for a long while before she blinked and shook her head.  
  
"I need food," she said simply, her voice several octaves lower than usual. "And I need to change clothes."  
  
She went into a fast food restaurant to take care of both those things. Spike thought she'd be in the bathroom for a while, seeing as how she hadn't had any time to deal with things in her usual way, but was surprised to see her emerge from the restaurant within minutes, a bag of food in one hand, and her soiled clothes in another.  
  
"Where to?"  
  
He didn't want to feel sorry for her, but the empty eyes and toneless words had him doing so anyway. She was going to have one huge breakdown when this was over. If it ever was.  
  
"Madison," he answered, studying her waxen features. "We'll restock on blood there and move on."  
  
She nodded quickly and started to move away. Spike's hand on her shoulder stopped her, and she looked up at him blankly. He didn't know what to say to her, and so he said nothing. She frowned, then pulled away and got into the front of the van.  
  
Sighing, Spike got into the back and pulled the door closed. Dev was lying on the blankets they'd set up, Drusilla's sleeping form wrapped around her. Angel was sitting at their feet, and he looked up as Spike sat opposite him.  
  
"How's she holding up?" he asked, his eyes flickering to the front.  
  
"Not bloody well," Spike answered honestly. "Being the good little soldier, though."  
  
"I talked to Wesley," Angel told him. "He's going to do some research and see if he can find out how we're being followed. Figures since we haven't used a credit card, they're not using conventional means."  
  
Spike read between the lines, and Angel's averted face. "You don't think he'll find out, do you?"  
  
A long pause, then, "No. There are too many ways they could be doing it, and we don't have enough information to recognize the method they're using."  
  
Spike grunted and stretched his legs out. "Have I mentioned recently how bloody maddening this all is?" he groused.  
  
"Once or twice."  
  
Was that a bit of amusement? Yeah, it was. Good. Spike had never been of the opinion that having the odds against him meant he should forget the simple pleasures, and he thought Angel could do with following his lead.  
  
"Ever imagine us like this again?" Spike asked, waving his arm vaguely. "Working together, on the run. It's like old times."  
  
Just when he'd given up hope of a response, Angel's soft voice broke the silence. "Yeah, it is. Except, it was normally your irresponsibility that had us on the run."  
  
"Huh, what can I say," Spike laughed. "I was a handful. What's that human saying? May you be cursed with children just like you?"  
  
"Something like that," Angel agreed, chuckling. "But humans grow up, and you still haven't."  
  
"Yeah, well."  
  
Spike left it at that, not wanting to get onto that topic of conversation, despite their arrangement. Fact of it was, he'd noticed the changes in himself, even if he didn't let them show. He'd thought, at first, it was because he was on his own for the first time since he'd been turned. But after a while, he hadn't been convinced of that. After getting the damned chip out of his head, he'd headed out of Sunnydale, took over as Master in San Francisco, and found that it hadn't brought him nearly as much pleasure as it had in the past.  
  
Which had led to a three-week period in which he'd pondered vampire society. Maybe the Sunnydale crew thought the world was crawling with old ones, but that wasn't the case. It was just that they came into contact with the old ones, who were drawn to the Hellmouth for one reason or another.  
  
Truth was, it was rare that vampires lived to his, Dru or Angel's age. Darwin's theory seemed to be more amplified when it came to vampires than it did to humans. Probably because of their animalistic natures. Fledgling vampires were like newborn beasts, thinking of nothing but their need to feed, their need to be evil. They weren't capable of using their brains right away, and that got them killed. In Sunnydale, it was at the Slayer's hands, but elsewhere it was because of other vampires or demons. Weakness was preyed upon, and the brainless twits were weak to the extreme. Only the smart ones lived past the first decade or so. Survival of the fittest, and all that rot, louder and clearer than in any other species.  
  
Spike had been privileged in that his sire hadn't just turned him and moved on. No, Drusilla had kept him close, her and the others teaching him, mopping up his messes for him, and protecting him from himself despite Darla's protests. Angelus had tried to teach him to focus his energy, but there hadn't been enough time to do it properly. He'd been shuffled offstage thanks to the Gypsy curse, and then his lessons had changed, so subtly that Spike hadn't even noticed the difference at the time.  
  
Still, Spike hadn't forgotten what Angelus had tried to instill in him, and had actually begun applying it later on, when it had just been him and Dru. Because, in all honesty, Drusilla's mind didn't often let her think too much beyond the here and now and what she wanted, and someone had to think of all that could happen and prepare for it. Which was what Spike had done, but the enormity of what Angelus hadn't been able to teach him had been driven home, because he never could be more than a few steps ahead of everything. Hence Prague, and the Feast of St. Vigilus, and every other plan that had failed supremely.  
  
And what all of this meant was that he was completely unprepared for where he now found himself, which was in a place well past fledgling lustfulness but not quite at an ancient's need to reshape the world into a living, breathing Hell. He thought it might actually be a crossroads, where he either took the path that the Master had, or did something else. Thing was, he didn't *know* what the other option was since, like the Slayer, the only path he'd seen played out had been the Hell on earth one.  
  
He'd put it from his mind and left San Francisco, heading back to Sunnydale to do something he did well. Kill a Slayer. Only, that hadn't turned out the way he'd thought it would, had it? With his unsure state of mind, he'd reverted back to type, forgetting everything he'd learned. And he'd paid for it, too. Forced to be the Scoobies' pet vampire. Which actually suited him fine for the moment--though he'd take a holy water bath before admitting that to anyone. It gave him much needed down time to work out the shit in his head.  
  
Angel was watching him. Spike could see his eyes focused on him even in the darkness that surrounded them. Considering. Thoughtful. Curious. Angel would understand what he was going through, he knew. Still didn't mean he wanted to get *that* chummy with him, especially since Angel would impart Poofy triteness instead of Angelus guidance. Besides, Spike had to hold some cards to his chest since the truce wouldn't last forever.  
  
He ignored Angel, and continued to do so until Willow stopped the van at a hotel in Madison. It was almost a routine, now. She checked them in, drove them to their rooms, then went inside to set up shop. Since the sun hadn't yet set, she left them in the van. They'd follow as soon as dusk fell, which Spike's gut told him was in forty-five minutes.  
  
Drusilla woke up when they stopped. Surprisingly, she was quieter than normal, as though someone had lowered her volume. She crawled over Dev, taking care not to brush against the injured vampire, and pressed herself against Angel. One arm stretched in Spike's direction, and he took the proffered hand, letting her pull him to her side.  
  
Was it really so bad to enjoy this pretense, to fit himself next to these two and forget that almost a century had passed? Probably. Like a great many other things, Spike knew he'd regret it all later and stubbornly pushed that thought from his head.  
  
Their childe had been tortured so viciously that Spike, who had earned his nickname honestly, had been horrified when he'd set eyes on her. They were now on the run from unknown people, who seemed to have the resources and abilities to track them and kill them (if the cheerleader's visions were to be believed), and the icing on the cake? Willow.  
  
The funny thing about it being Willow with them was that she was possibly the best and worst human to have along. Best because, as Spike had realized in Giles' living room one evening when a mere thought of hers had slammed him against a wall and kept him there, she had the power they needed. Not to mention the brains, and the sappy side that had made her agree to help them simply because Angel had asked nicely.  
  
She was also an almost tolerable human at times. Not all the time, mind, but sometimes. After all, she was the only one of the Slayer's people who had never tried to pretend that he wasn't there under duress, or that he wasn't dangerous. Giles tended to try to chat amicably with him, Buffy ordered him around like he was her willing slave, and Xander--feeling safe, no doubt, from retribution--took every opportunity to insult him. Willow, however, virtually ignored him. On the occasions when there was no choice but for them to speak, she was always polite but wary, and kept the chat brief. Which was how Spike thought it should be, really.  
  
But she was also the worst human possible for them to have hauled into the middle of this because she was the Slayer's best friend. Angel thought Buffy would let it slide, since it had been Angel's idea. Spike rather thought that she would let Angel's part slide, but not Spike's. He hadn't been lying to Wesley the Wanker: there was only a slim chance the bitch wouldn't dust him. Even he had learned the two most important facts about fighting the current Slayer. First, the more brassed off she was, the less chance he had of surviving an encounter with her. Second, she got the most brassed off when her friends had been hurt.  
  
What would happen when they returned would depend on Willow, which was why he'd been on semi-good behavior since they'd left her dorm.  
  
Angel shifted, reaching for the door, and Spike realized that the sun had set. Clenching his jaw, he began unloading the van.  
  
~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^ 


	5. Part 5

The days bled into each other. Angel couldn't really remember all the places they'd been in the week since they'd left Los Angeles. Willow generally decided. He thought they'd gone north after Wichita, then east again, but he wasn't sure.  
  
Cordelia had yet to call them again due to another vision, and they were reluctant to stop running. Willow had put aside the database on Dev's system for the moment to concentrate on finding a way to get the healing spell to work. So far she hadn't attempted any of the options she'd come up with, wanting to research them a bit more.  
  
They were all feeling the pressure and strain of staying on the move. Angel's nerves were on edge, and his temper was barely leashed. The only good thing about their wanderings was that it gave Spike neither the time nor the opportunity to rethink the understanding they'd come to, for which Angel was eternally grateful. If he'd had to deal with standard Spike behavior, he didn't think the brat would still be alive, Dev or no Dev. All right, that was a bit of an exaggeration, but at the very least Spike would have been restrained and gagged.  
  
Drusilla stayed calm throughout it all, and Angel was fully aware it was because location was irrelevant to Drusilla. With the same people around her each night, Drusilla was at ease. She'd even continued to keep her distance from Willow, though there'd been times when Angel had looked up to find her at the door to whatever room he and Willow were sharing, watching Willow intently. Not in a predatory manner. It was almost as though the vampire was trying to figure something out, but couldn't.  
  
Each time he'd witnessed that, Angel had flinched, because he would then think of the night Dev had somehow gotten into Willow and then gently led Drusilla back to the land of the sane. Her eyes that night.they'd been clear and intelligent. God, that had given him nightmares.  
  
At those times he knew why Dev had never told him about that particular parlor trick of hers. Other times he was pissed, because he'd mostly come to terms with what he'd done to Drusilla, and he should never have been allowed to do so. Which he recognized as the same self-flagellating sentiment that had caused him to reduce the Gem of Amarra to bits, much to Cordelia and Doyle's dismay, but which he still felt was appropriate.  
  
Willow, on the other hand, had the luxury of distraction. She had several tasks on which to focus her thoughts. Yet, often, Angel would see her lapse into long bouts of frowning silence, and she'd mention Buffy and the others, how worried they must be, and how hard it was going to be to catch up on all of her classes. He thought she might have seen him flinch once, feeling guilty that he'd gotten her involved, because she'd abruptly stopped saying anything of the kind two days before.  
  
The entire group was barely speaking to each other. There just wasn't time. When they were on the road, Willow was either driving by herself up front, or sleeping while he or Spike drove. In the back of the van, the last of the Order of Aurelis had settled into a perpetual grim silence as idle chatter didn't seem appropriate, and they'd exhausted all topics of discussion when it came to what had happened to Dev.  
  
Currently, they were in yet another motel room. Willow had hunkered down with the spell books from her trunk, and her laptop. Angel met Spike's eyes, wondering which of them would be getting blood at this stop. Willow noticed.  
  
"Look, why don't you all go?" she said to the room at large. "You both look like you could use some prowling time, and Dru's been cooped up since we left Angel's; I'm sure she'd appreciate going out."  
  
Angel shook his head, glad that Drusilla was in the next room with Dev, and hadn't heard the idea. "Someone has to keep an eye on Dev," Angel reminded her.  
  
Willow set aside the book and turned calm eyes on him. "I'll do it."  
  
"No." That was Spike, whose voice was like a whip. He had been pacing the room, and came to a stop to glare at Willow.  
  
"Quick talk time," Willow said decisively, leaving the desk to sit on one of the double beds. "I'm going to have to see Dev eventually, for one reason or another. I'd prefer it to be on my terms. So, I'll move my books and laptops into the other room, and the three of you can be the creatures of the night that you are."  
  
"Willow, there's no reason you have to see her," Angel said slowly. "Plus, I don't want you here alone. You and Dev will be too vulner--" Angel froze and his eyes widened dramatically. There were two stakes pressed against him, one in front, and one in back, of his heart. He turned his head cautiously and saw Willow watching him sedately, her eyes slightly narrowed. She smiled, and the stakes hurtled through the air and came to rest next to her.  
  
Angel heard Spike chuckle. "Good to see I'm not your only victim."  
  
"I'm not saying I'm super-mojo ninja witch," Willow told Angel, ignoring Spike's amusement. "But I'm not *entirely* helpless, and you won't be gone long. I can call your cell if I need you."  
  
"All right," Spike said right away.  
  
"Spike?" Angel asked, confused as to why the blond had changed his mind.  
  
Spike shrugged, his eyes guarded. "She wants to do it, let her."  
  
Angel wanted to know what exactly was going on in Spike's mind. He tilted his head, studied Spike more closely, and came up empty-handed. Whatever Spike was thinking, he was keeping it close to his chest.  
  
"Fine," Angel agreed reluctantly. He walked to Willow and crouched down in front of her, meeting her eyes. "But if something happens, call us. And if you.don't want to be here alone anymore, call us. We'll only be gone an hour or two."  
  
Angel saw Willow take a deep breath. Her eyes closed as she exhaled, and then opened again. He noted the shade that had been pulled, and it nearly broke his heart. She was steeling herself. He'd seen her do it before, in Sunnydale, but never so effectively. Never so completely. Never so steadily.  
  
Standing up, he saw that Spike had stilled, a deep frown settling on his face when he caught sight of Willow. It was time they had a talk.  
  
Angel gestured at the books and laptop. "Gather your things."  
  
A minute later, the three of them left the room and turned right. At the very next door, Angel knocked. Drusilla opened it, surprise lighting her features when she noticed Willow.  
  
Her wide grin faltered almost immediately, to be replaced with twist of her lips that Angel recognized meant she was concentrating. She reached out and touched Willow's hair gently. "Such a brave one, you are," she whispered.  
  
Angel tensed, but didn't intervene. They were going to have to find out just how effective Dev's mind game had been if they were going to continue being in such close proximity with one another. He noticed that Spike had leaned against the doorjam, one eyebrow raised in curiosity.  
  
"Brave like our Devil. So much of our Devil in you. Your mind rings like hers; a terrible cacophony of flashing lights, too bright for my eyes. You are both coins, winning and losing yourself with each flip in the air you take." She grinned slyly. "Oh, and the secret--I'm not supposed to know and I shan't tell you before you realize it." A red tipped finger pressed to her lips. "Shh."  
  
Willow grinned a little uncomfortably. "Yeah, well, she did that mojo and all."  
  
Dru shook her head, laughing lightly. "You smell like dark poisonous berries because she wishes you to." Her eyes drifted shut and she swayed forward and backward. "But the rest.that has nothing to do with pretty words and a taste of blood. It's all to do with you, precious."  
  
Angel forcibly restrained himself from looking surprised at Drusilla's endearment. She didn't bestow them lightly, and he didn't know what it boded for them.  
  
"Um," Willow muttered, blushing. "The guys are going to take you out. Do you want to go?"  
  
"Will you come with us?" Dru asked hopefully.  
  
"No, I'm going to sit with Dev while you're all out. Maybe next time?" Willow added at Drusilla's disappointed pout.  
  
"Promise?"  
  
And Angel saw the small, indulgent smile that came and went quickly from Willow's lips. "Promise. Now, all of you, go on." She made a shooing motion with her hand. "Get."  
  
They got.  
  
Outside, Spike lit a cigarette and they both watched Drusilla spin in circles. "Where the bloody hell are we, anyway?"  
  
Angel shrugged, moving closer to Drusilla. She'd be teetering in a minute from the motion. Spike had the same idea, and they grinned slightly at each other, Spike exhaling a plume of smoke as he did so.  
  
"You think Willow will be all right?" Angel ventured as Drusilla tippled into their arms, giggling like a girl.  
  
Spike snorted. "Not even a little."  
  
They righted Drusilla and walked down the street. She was practically skipping ahead of them and singing sweetly about blood and bones. Eventually, Angel asked, "Why did change your mind about her staying with Dev?"  
  
"Because she was right," Spike told him. He lifted his shoulders in a shrug and tossed his cigarette aside. "Much as we'd all like her to not have to see Dev, it's not realistic."  
  
"Daddy," Drusilla trilled, falling into Angel's arms and letting him take all of her weight. "Can I kill something? Can I? Please. I've been good, like you wanted."  
  
Twin responses warred at the tip of Angel's tongue, and he looked helplessly at Spike.  
  
"Maybe. If we can find a demon bar, or something, luv. You can pick out a real nasty morsel and go to town. How's that sound?"  
  
She sighed deeply and spilled from Angel's arms into Spike's, pressing her body against him as her fingers danced along his chest. "Wonderful, Spike. It sounds wonderful."  
  
"I thought it might."  
  
They continued on, and Angel let them get a few steps ahead of him. Their heads were pressed together, arms entangled. Soft murmurs of endearments and violence wafted back to Angel every so often. No matter how long he lived, he didn't think he'd ever see a pair of vampires like Spike and Dru.  
  
Spike had changed his hair, his accent and even his name so that nothing had remained of the supposedly pathetic human he'd started life as. Yet, a coy plea from Dru would have him spouting poetry like the man named William he'd once been. And whether Spike believed it or not, Drusilla was devoted to him. Even when Angelus had been playing with their heads in Sunnydale. Even now that they had parted ways as a couple.  
  
That was the basis for all the pair's problems. Spike thought her devotion should be more like his, meaning that no one else should garner her attention. For Drusilla, devotion meant that Spike always had her attention, no matter what else or who else also got it, however fleetingly. Neither of them would change their basic view on that point.  
  
He hoped that Spike realized this, that he wouldn't see this little.interlude in reality as anything else. The thought of Spike and Drusilla together again was enough to make Angel scream in a combination of rage and sympathy.  
  
"Seems a likely spot, huh?"  
  
Angel looked up. They were in an alley, and his children were in front of him, Spike gesturing to the unmarked door just behind him. Angel studied it, his nod letting Spike know that he agreed it was probably a demon haunt.  
  
"Dru, come here," Angel called quietly. She sailed over to him on weightless legs, looking up expectantly. "We don't need to get the wrong kind of attention. Anything you.play with tonight shouldn't be missed. That means no humans, and no demons of the good or neutral variety. You understand?"  
  
"Yes." She nodded for emphasis, her eyes beginning to sparkle in anticipation. "Nothing gooood," she hissed. "Might cause a curious cat to wonder what killed the dog."  
  
Oh, he was so very out of practice with Drusilla. It took years in her company to reliably understand her.  
  
"She understands," Spike assured Angel. He joined them and placed a kiss on top of Dru's head. "Have fun, pet. Make sure you keep our presence here discreet." He wiggled his fingers next to her head. "Play some mind games to keep them going in circles, eh? We'll get you in an hour, whether you're done or not."  
  
With another smile, Drusilla hurried to the door and knocked. Spike and Angel stepped into the shadows, emerging only after a scaly demon had let her inside.  
  
"Hit the local blood bank?" Spike asked diffidently.  
  
They trolled the streets until they found a payphone with a phone book, then did their best to find the address that had been listed for the blood bank. Spike was unnaturally quiet, which reminded Angel about his earlier decision to find out what was occupying the other vampire's mind.  
  
"You worried about Dev?" Angel hazarded to guess.  
  
Spike threw him a sidelong glance, eyebrow cocked in a way that let Angel know he thought that was a given. "Well, yeah," he answered in confusion.  
  
"Has it been hard to be around Dru?"  
  
Spike stopped walked and turned a searching glance on Angel. "What's with the twenty questions? You want to know something, ask."  
  
"Fine," Angel said with a sigh, not sure how to begin approaching the topic. He settled on an indirect route. "Willow." Before Spike could reply, Angel continued with, "Why aren't you baiting her? Why isn't she afraid of you?"  
  
Rolling his eyes, Spike lit another cigarette. "Obsessed about that, are you?"  
  
"Tell me while we walk. We need to get the blood."  
  
They crossed a street and turned left. Spike flicked ash from his cigarette and lifted one shoulder. "Nothing to tell, really. The baiting--yeah, I did my share when I first got 'recruited' by.the Slayer." A smirk played on Angel's face at Spike's hesitation and non-insulting reference to Buffy. Spike noticed, and curled his lip in silent response. "As for her not being afraid, she hasn't been for a while."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
Spike shrugged again, and Angel saw that a very different smile was on his face now. The brat was grinning. "She wasn't the same girl I terrorized before, and she let me know it."  
  
"The stake trick?" Angel guessed, his own lips twisting.  
  
"Pinned me to a wall with a bit of wood," Spike laughed. Angel peered closely at his face as they hooked a left onto the street the blood bank was on. "Meanwhile, the chit's sitting across the room and there's not a whiff of fear coming my way."  
  
"She took her power back," Angel said slowly, realizing that the look on Spike's face was respect. Nothing rueful in Spike once someone earned his respect. "Good for her."  
  
"Yeah. After that, we pretty much left each other alone." He tilted his head and amended that statement, "Well, except the one thing."  
  
"What thing?" Angel asked suspiciously. The sign for the blood bank was half a block down, and they picked up the pace.  
  
"You think I left the others alone? Not likely. So, I'd do my bit, piss them off. Every once in a while I'd pick on Red, but she never took it like the others."  
  
Angel stared into an alley next to the blood bank and saw the back door. Once they reached it, Spike put his cigarette in his mouth and pulled on the doorknob with both hands, then tossed the butt aside.  
  
"What did she do instead?" Angel asked once they were inside.  
  
Spike found the door to the storage area and shouldered it open. Angel preceded him in and went right for the refrigerator. The pad lock was gone an instant later.  
  
"Turned it around," Spike answered, offering him a cooler he'd snagged from a lab table. "Did her best to either make me yell or laugh. Then she played dumb about it when everyone else noticed. Pretty soon, it got to be a challenge between us: see who'd get the other to make an arse of themselves."  
  
"Interesting," Angel commented. They filled the cooler, and another one that Angel found in the next room and left the building.  
  
The conversation had given him the opening he'd been looking for, and Angel took it as they started back to the demon bar. "Seems a little out of character for you, doesn't it?" Angel said non-committaly.  
  
"Which part? Knowing that I should make the best of a shitty situation, or actually doing it?"  
  
Angel came to a dead stop, narrowing his eyes on Spike, who had also paused. The blond was staring away, a cooler dangling from his left hand, and a cigarette being mangled by his right. "The doing it and what's going on with you lately?"  
  
Spike had always been better than anyone at avoiding both Angelus and Angel's eyes, and his expertise was still intact.  
  
"I don't suppose you'd drop this?" Spike asked gruffly.  
  
Angel waited a beat and then walked on. "I would and I am."  
  
~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^  
  
Willow closed the door to the room, and stood facing it for a long while before taking a breath and stepping away. She put her computer and books on the desk, carefully averting her eyes from the occupied bed.  
  
The primal part of her that was responsible for survival instincts was screaming like a banshee, telling her to stop being stupid and run like hell. It said this wasn't worth it. Willow emphatically agreed, but she didn't leave.  
  
"Okay, Dev," she breathed. "I swear I'll turn around any minute now. Don't rush me, all right? Thanks."  
  
The banshee was about to pierce Willow's ear drums with its noise, so without giving herself time to think, Willow spun on her heel and stared at the bed. There was nothing there at first, then slowly she saw Dev. Blood rushed from her head and Willow clenched her fists to keep from passing out.  
  
*She has no back. No back. None at all.*  
  
What had she thought "flayed" meant, anyway? That a strip or two of skin had been carved away? A broken laugh sobbed its way out of her. Every bit of skin had been peeled away from Dev's back, leaving a shiny, translucent white film, which Willow supposed was the first layer of skin growing back. Beneath it, Willow could see muscles. Tendons. Bones--oh, god, she could see Dev's spine. The banshee had fallen silent, too horrified to even utter a perfunctory "I told you so".  
  
The vampire was naked, lying on her stomach on a plastic sheet that had been placed over the bedding. Finally moving her eyes, Willow saw that the back of Dev's legs were just as bad, but in a different way. Holy water and cross burns abounded, a busy crowd of which littered her inner thighs. Willow's mind balked when she distantly wondered what had been done between Dev's thighs, at that vulnerable juncture.  
  
Stumbling forward, Willow went to Dev's side, refusing to look away. It was almost a matter of respect for Dev, for what she'd endured, and for what Willow could only imagine at the vee of her legs.  
  
"Oh, God," she whispered, kneeling by the bed. Dev's left arm had been used as some sort of canvas whose brush had been a razor blade. An intricate latticework had been fashioned into Dev's arm from shoulder to wrist, detailed swirls that weren't very deep and should have healed. A horrified intake of breath. Holy water. The blade had been soaked in holy water, Willow realized when she saw the melted edges of the pattern.  
  
A shaking hand rose to Dev's head, where it lay on the mattress. A shock of dark purple hair--and it did look like a crayon color --was splayed across Dev's face. Gently, so gently, Willow smoothed the strands away, holding her breath to prepare herself for what she would find.  
  
She exhaled harshly. Bruises covered most of the vampire's face, but there was no sign of cuts, burns, or anything besides the results of a serious beating. There was little comfort in that fact. Her face was swollen, distorted, like a bloated corpse that Willow had once seen in the morgue when she was in high school; the man had drowned in his bathtub, and she'd accidentally opened the wrong drawer looking for the victim of a demon attack.  
  
Tears were streaming down Willow's face, but she wasn't yet done, so she wiped them away and stood up on trembling legs. A deep inhale, forced concentration, and then Dev was moving. Her body lifted several inches from the surface of the bed, then rotated so that her front was facing Willow. If it hadn't been for the fact that she was desperate not to hurt Dev and more than she'd already been hurt, Willow's focus would have faltered when she saw the front of Dev.  
  
It was one thing to hear that her breasts had been sliced open--a rather vague phrase that could be taken in its most simple connotation to mean a few cuts--but it was quite another thing to see what had actually been done. It was as if someone had inserted a knife into Dev's nipples, then torn through the tissue and come to a rest at her armpits.  
  
And beneath that, at her abdomen, was a gaping hole that Willow could have fit both her fists into, and still had room to spare. Organs, long since unnecessary and dormant, were on display. Just under that gaping maw, Willow saw dark black curls, and she froze. She'd done what she'd intended, which was to see Dev so that she could be in the same room with her without freaking out. There was no reason to look further, no need to invade the last bit of privacy that was still allotted Dev.  
  
Yet, it was blasphemy to turn away, to protect herself from what this vampire, this *woman* hadn't been able to defend against. Did Spike and Angel realize? Did their eyes scurry to another part of Dev's body when they tended to that area? Did they tell themselves it was out of respect for Dev's dignity, rather than due to their inability to comprehend?  
  
Because, they couldn't, no matter what lies they told themselves. Only another woman could appreciate that *this* was worse than exposed vertebrae and intestines. Because the rest, that had been about strength. Even if Dev had been drugged and restrained, everything else had been about who was stronger. This, though, this had been about power, about taking even the remotest semblance of power from Dev. And even if both men had used this particular method of breaking someone, and had seen the results of their handiwork, they still didn't understand the enormity of it. They couldn't.  
  
Drusilla understood, of that Willow was quite certain. Willow knew that Angelus had done this to Drusilla, before and after she had become a vampire. The Watcher journals had been clear and clinical about that. It was highly likely, considering what Willow had read, that Drusilla had been conditioned to it by Angelus, had eventually come to associate it with affection from him. Still, if she felt for Dev even an inkling of what Willow thought she did, then Drusilla understood. She knew that her darling Devil had been reduced to a piece of meat.  
  
Willow's eyes lowered. Dev's legs were closed, and she had no intention of changing that. Nestled in the curls between Dev's thighs was the top of a cross burn, the bottom disappearing threateningly out of Willow's sight. Her tears starting anew, Willow carefully turned and lowered Dev to the bed once again.  
  
Back on her haunches, Willow laid her hand upon Dev's, then leaned down to her ear. "I'll find a way to help you," she whispered tearfully.  
  
She knelt by the bed a little longer, crying. Then, gathering her resolve, Willow made her way to the bathroom and washed the tears away. For the rest of the time before the trio returned, Willow read through her spell books. She sat in a chair that had been moved to Dev's bedside, not wanting to sit across the room and leave Dev alone.  
  
She was still studying her books when the vampires returned. Spike and Angel entered the room first, cautiously, Drusilla trailing behind.  
  
"Are you okay?" Angel asked, that searching gaze of his hunting down her eyes and refusing to let them escape.  
  
Smiling softly, Willow nodded and closed the book. "Would you and Spike mind sitting in the front of the van?"  
  
As she knew they'd be, the men were shocked speechless. Drusilla, however, flitted across the room, sitting on the floor between the chair and bed. One hand took Dev's, the other took Willow's, and she squeezed gently.  
  
"You have no place with us tonight, among our strength," Drusilla told the men, her lilting voice deeper than Willow had come to expect. "  
  
Willow squeezed back. They *were* stronger. They knew the reality that belied the intention.  
  
Perhaps the men realized that much, because they acquiesced to Willow's request without a word, and loaded Dev into the van after they fed her. But they didn't understand it all, because they didn't look at the women as they closed the van doors.  
  
~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^  
  
Spike and Angel relinquished the front of the van to Willow at dawn. She'd been awake when Spike had opened the rear doors, her hand soothingly stroking Dev's hair. Drusilla had been asleep next to Dev, their hands joined.  
  
As Willow climbed out of the van, Angel steadying her with a grip on her arm, Spike marveled at how relaxed she was. He'd expected her to be a mess when they got back to the motel, but instead she'd relegated him and Angel to the front of the van, not taking the chance to remove herself from Dev. And she still seemed no worse for the experience.  
  
"Do you think it's safe for us to circle our route a bit?" she asked Angel. "Wide circle, of course. I just don't want to end up in New York," she added wryly.  
  
"Uh, that's fine," Angel responded, sounding as disconcerted as Spike felt. "Head south for a while."  
  
"All right. See you at dusk." She turned around, then stopped and turned back. "Oh, and I put a salve on Dev's wounds. It should numb the pain a bit."  
  
Silence reigned in the back of the van. It was the same thick quiet that had hovered around Spike and Angel when they'd been up front, after having been excommunicated by the women. They knew why the women had closed ranks, but there seemed to be nothing to say about it.  
  
Spike fell into a fitful sleep, was awoken by Angel a while later to feed Dev, then drifted back to sleep again until the van came to a halt shortly after sunset. The backdoors opened, and Spike saw Willow standing there, a little more tired than when he'd last seen her.  
  
"Did you get any sleep while we were driving?" Angel asked her with concern. "And have you eaten anything?"  
  
"I slept until just before I took over driving, and I stopped for food while we were on the road," Willow assured him. Spike saw her gaze fall on the sleeping vampires, and she smiled. Her hand danced along Drusilla's calf, ending with a light slap. "Wakey wakey, Dru."  
  
Drusilla stretched languidly, lifted Dev's hand to her mouth to place a gentle kiss on it and then crawled out of the van.  
  
"I just got one room," Willow informed them, her eyes on Dev. "I think you guys are okay with blood?"  
  
"Yeah," Spike grunted. He wrapped his arm around Dru's waist, pulling her tightly to him.  
  
Willow nodded. She reached into the van and took the coolers in hand, setting off for the room while Spike and Angel gathered Dev up. Willow passed them as they were carrying the injured vampire in, indicating that she was going to get her stuff. Inside the room, Drusilla had turned down the bedding on one of the beds. She took the plastic sheet that Spike handed her, and spread it out. Willow returned as they were positioning Dev.  
  
"I'm going to grab a shower," Willow told them. "Would you guys mind not going out? I kind of need to talk to you," she explained.  
  
They agreed to wait, and Spike found his eyes meeting Angel's several times during Willow's shower. Angel appeared to have no more of an idea of what Willow wanted than Spike did. "Dru, luv, what does Willow want to talk about?" Spike queried.  
  
Dru looked up from her position on the bed next to Dev. "So very much is easy to see in her, Spike, but much more is fuzzy and tilted."  
  
Which meant she had no bloody idea. Spike found himself in an unusual position of not knowing how to act. It had knocked him off kilter, being kicked to the front of the van. Balances had shifted, and he wasn't sure in what manner. Were he and Angel supposed to stay away from them now? Or was it that Willow was no longer on the fringe of the horror, and wouldn't return there? Hell if he knew, that was for sure.  
  
Angel passed him, walking to the windows and then spinning around to retrace his path. Pacing. Normally Spike's gig. That night, though, he didn't want to pace. He just wanted to do what he'd normally be doing, even if it was just sitting in the Watcher's living room, listening to him pontificate about the newest nasty. Because, none of this felt real. It was like a really crappy vacation to a place he really hated, and he wanted to go home.  
  
Never mind that it wasn't bad being with Angel and Drusilla again. Didn't make up for the shitty circumstances, the shitty motels and the shitty van. Or for Dev, whose condition had improved only minimally. Seemed like they'd done nothing but wait and run since Dev had gotten to Angel's, and it was wearing thin, not having any action to take. That, rather than the travel, was probably what was getting to them all the most.  
  
He was leaning against a wall, glowering at his thoughts, when the bathroom door opened. A cloud of humid air preceded Willow's entrance. Her clothes clung to her in places as she raised her arms and dried her hair with a towel.  
  
"Well, what did you want to talk about?" Spike jeered. "Is it time for a Scooby pep session, then? Maybe you're gonna call the cheerleader and have her rah-rah-siss-boom-bah it all better?"  
  
Willow froze, and then Angel was in front of him, towering like a dark shadow. "You need to vent?" he growled, twisting his hands in fistfuls of Spike's shirt and slamming him back against the wall. Hell. He'd forgotten that he wasn't the only one whose temper was frayed. "To throw some punches? Rip someone to shreds with that poison tongue of yours?"  
  
Angel's human visage disappeared and Spike heard how Angel's yellow eyes were silently finishing that speech: *"Need a reminder of who you should be listening to?"* And it was a promise, not an offer or threat.  
  
Their eyes stayed locked for a long moment, and then Angel loosened his grip on Spike's shirt. "You take your frustrations out on her again," Angel hissed, "and you'll damn well regret it." His hands fell away, along with his ridges and fangs.  
  
As if Spike wasn't fully aware of that fact that it had been a shitty thing to do. "Right," Spike said quietly. "Got it."  
  
He looked away, only to find Drusilla glaring prettily at him and Willow studiously folding the clothes she'd changed out of, devoting all of her attention to the task.  
  
"Willow." Angel said softly.  
  
Closing the lid of her suitcase, Willow shook her head. "I get that it wasn't about me," she assured him, her voice distant. She zipped the case shut and perched on the empty bed. In a lightning change of subject she said, "I've found several promising spells, but I'm honestly afraid of attempting them. I need to know more, which means I need to know what Drusilla saw."  
  
Angel pulled a chair from a desk by the window and set it so that it was in front of and between the two beds. Then he turned it around and straddled it, putting his back to Spike. Running his hands through his hair, Spike looked around the room. He didn't seem to be welcome at either of the beds, and Angel had taken the only other chair.  
  
"Sit down," Angel said coldly, one arm extending to point at the floor next to him.  
  
Spike was about to tell him where he could shove that order, when he noted the slight difference in Angel's posture, which turned it into a bearing that told Spike he wasn't talking to just any vampire, but the vampire who had been as much, if not more, his sire as Drusilla had been.  
  
Tricky situation, this. If he obeyed, took a submissive position to Angel, he'd be taking this game past the boundary that he himself had set. But if he didn't, then he knew that Angel wouldn't give him another reminder about his place in the hierarchy. And Spike wanted him to, because it was so bloody familiar, so everything he seemed to have been lacking recently, and just the thought of it all--everything that had once been--made him feel *right*.  
  
Staring at Angel's back, Spike wondered just how far this could all go without putting him under the other vampire's thumb again. The answer, he realized, was as far as he wanted because this wasn't actually Angelus. It was Soul Boy, and none of it would have happened when it was all over. Spike found that not only could he live with that, but he welcomed it.  
  
Spike was aware of Angel relaxing when he sat beside the chair, next to the bed Drusilla and Dev were on, his shoulder brushing Angel's leg.  
  
"All together again," he heard Drusilla coo.  
  
Willow was silent, and Spike looked up at her. Her face would have been expressionless to someone else, but Spike was all too familiar with the ghost in her eyes: she felt left out, in the way. Extraneous. Angel had to have noticed it as well, but he didn't do anything. Didn't break the spell by giving Spike his seat. The knowledge that Angel wanted this as much as Spike did made him lean a little more against Angel.  
  
"What do you need to know about Dru's vision?" Angel asked Willow, his voice unapologetic but kind at the same time.  
  
She folded her hands until Spike could see them whiten in pressure. "I need details, not a recap," she answered calmly. "It'd be better if Dru could tell me."  
  
Angel shifted until he faced Drusilla. "Tell Willow about what you saw."  
  
Drusilla's hands waved through the air, tracing something only she could see. "It's not in my eyes, Daddy."  
  
"What she means," Spike began.  
  
"She can't tell us anything because she's not seeing it," Willow finished, a touch of frost in her voice. "So, you two need to tell me everything she said."  
  
"Might not be much," Angel replied, shifting back. "With everything that was going on, I didn't press her for details."  
  
"Same here," Spike chimed in, pulling his legs to his chest and resting his wrists on his knees. "I remember she said that Dev was running--like fleeing for her life. Then something happened--"  
  
"The tree," Angel interjected. "Drusilla said that Dev ran to a tree."  
  
"A willow tree," Willow drawled wryly.  
  
Spike snickered. "Dru rambled on about a crying tree with red blossoms and magic sap." He winked, glad to see that Willow smiled slightly. "Thought of you right away, Red."  
  
Then her brows drew together. "She ran to it? That's not quite what happened. I mean, I came to her, not the other way around. What else?"  
  
"Nothing much else," Angel said regretfully. "Like we told you, all she said next was that the tree would heal and protect Dev. Then it.left her eyes."  
  
Willow continued to look thoughtful, her hands untying from each other and plowing through her hair. "Is there--can we get it back in Dru's sight somehow? Get her to see it again?"  
  
Angel looked down at Spike questioningly. "It's possible," Spike said with a shrug.  
  
Nodding, Willow turned to Drusilla, who had sprawled across every inch of bed that Dev wasn't using, her head at the foot of the bed near Spike and Angel. For a long moment, she was quiet, her eyes shifting across Dru's features rapidly. Eventually, she nodded again. "Dru, can I ask you something?"  
  
Drusilla rolled her head to the side. "Of course, precious."  
  
"Before a vision comes to your eyes," Willow said very slowly, as though she was putting a great deal of thought into every single word. "Where is it?"  
  
Spike knew this tactic; he'd seen Willow use it when the Slayer rushed into Giles', ranting about finding "the demon", or when Xander babbled incoherently from panic, or when Giles forgot that the rest of them hadn't read the same texts he had. She was getting the story from the beginning, understanding the genesis so that she might figure out the revelation. He glanced up at Angel and saw the same knowledge in his eyes.  
  
"It comes from the outside and mates with the noise and swirls," Drusilla answered. "Then it's born, all blood and screams."  
  
Willow's lips twisted. No doubt the illogic of something mating and then being born as a result of its own mating was causing her distress. She visibly shook it off and continued. "Does it go directly to your eyes after it's, er, born?"  
  
Definitely distressed.  
  
Drusilla spilled upright, in that liquid way of hers. "Oh, not always. Sometimes it hides, and I have find it and punish it for being naughty. And sometimes it runs past me, rabbit-quick, and I have to set a trap to catch it. One of those metal mouths, that cuts through the flesh."  
  
As Willow fell silent, no doubt pondering her next question, Spike realized that there was no one better equipped to follow Drusilla down winding path. Not even himself or Angel. She had the patience Spike didn't, and the lack of guilt that Angel didn't. But more than that, her intelligence and unusual experience with such matters gave her the ability to learn the path rather than be left to Drusilla's caprice.  
  
"When it leaves your eyes, where does it go?"  
  
"Back to the noise and swirls. It dances there. A lovely minuet, but only it can hear the music," she said sadly. "I try, but it's just to quiet for me."  
  
"That's too bad," Willow commiserated. "After it goes back to the noise and swirls, does it ever come back to your eyes again?"  
  
Drusilla sighed, dreamy. "Yes, sometimes it visits again. I offer it a cup of tea and we talk about the dancing."  
  
Another long silence, then Willow left her perch and kneeled in front of Spike to look up at Drusilla. "Why does it sometimes visit you?"  
  
"Well," Dru said, conspiratorially, "because it knows I miss it. Doesn't like me to feel sad. Or if I've forgotten, it knows it has to remind me. We're great friends."  
  
Ah, a fork in the road. Two paths to investigate. Spike found himself leaning towards Willow and Dru, could feel Angel doing the same.  
  
"Has it ever not visited you when you miss it?"  
  
Drusilla frowned. It was Willow's first misstep; negatives had to be handled just right, or they confused Drusilla. Willow pursed her lips and tried again. "Did it ever choose to stay in the noise and swirls when you missed it?"  
  
"Why, of course not," Drusilla hissed, drawing back from Willow and glaring. "I told you, we're great friends."  
  
Second misstep: never, ever imply that someone wasn't totally devoted to Dru's every whim.  
  
"She didn't mean anything by it, pet," Spike comforted Drusilla. "Her friends aren't as nice to her as yours are."  
  
That had Willow glaring at him, but he just smirked. Drusilla, on the other hand, flowed towards the red head again, her face troubled. "You should have great friends, precious," she murmured, one of her fingers caressing Willow's cheek. "Shall I kill these people who aren't good to you?"  
  
"No!" Willow practically shouted. Spike burst out laughing, and didn't stop until Angel smacked the back of his head lightly. Willow took a deep breath. "I mean, it's, uh, very.sweet of you, but I'll, er, take care of them myself. Okay?"  
  
"Very well," Drusilla pouted. "If you change your mind--"  
  
"You'll be the first to know," Willow promised vehemently, then brought the conversation back around again. "So, I suppose that every time you've forgotten your vision, it reminded you."  
  
The look Drusilla turned on Willow could only be deemed pitying, and Spike covered his mouth and laughed into his hand. "Yes, precious," Drusilla said simply.  
  
"Do you remember having a vision after you got to Angel's?" Willow asked carefully, seemingly watching her words even more vigilantly now.  
  
Drusilla whimpered. "Yessss," she moaned.  
  
"Has that vision come to your eyes again?" Willow pushed on, studying Dru carefully.  
  
"No! Stay away, I said," Drusilla shouted, her hands grabbing frantically at the hair at her temples.  
  
Spike moved to take her in his arms, but Willow was there. She covered Drusilla's fists with her hands and ran her thumbs soothingly across her hands. Spike settled back, staring with wide eyes.  
  
"Drusilla," Willow breathed. "I can *not* help Dev, and I can *not* make her safe."  
  
"But you have to!" Drusilla wailed, tears pooling in her eyes.  
  
"I don't know how," Willow said intently. "Your vision knows, but I don't."  
  
With that, Willow released Drusilla and stood up. "I'm hungry," she said aloud. "Will someone take me out to get some food?"  
  
~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^  
  
Angel and Willow walked to the van in silence. She handed the keys to him and got in the passenger seat. Angel watched her, tossing the keys up and down a few times before getting behind the wheel.  
  
They found a fast food restaurant, and Angel pulled into a drive-thru, relating Willow's order to the big, smiling burger. She really must have been hungry, because she ordered two hamburgers for herself.  
  
Angel didn't speak until they'd gotten back to the hotel. Half of Willow's fries had already been eaten, and she was chewing when he placed a restraining hand on her arm.  
  
"What--" He broke off, not really sure what he was trying to ask her, or rather, which of eight million questions he wanted answered.  
  
She took pity on him. Bless her. "Last night--in the van--we talked a lot," she said quietly. "Gave me *quite* the migraine, I tell you. But, I did figure out one thing." Angel waited expectantly and she smiled. "Dru's not a direct critter, you know? So--direct isn't the route to take."  
  
For what felt like the hundredth time that night, Angel looked at Willow as though he'd never seen her before. She'd asked direct questions then interpreted Dru's indirect answers. In her piece de' resistance, she'd planted the seed, in an indirect manner that would click with Drusilla. Willow had told Dru she couldn't help Dev and implied she couldn't do so without the information in the vision.  
  
Willow shrugged then sighed hugely. "Hopefully it'll work and it'll come to her eyes again. To tell you the truth--I don't know what the heck to do. I'm crossing my fingers that her vision will give me some direction. And, I'm kind of ticked that whoever gives Cordy her visions didn't giver her *this* one. Much prefer Cory's to Dru's."  
  
"I know the feeling," Angel commiserated. "They like to keep us on our toes."  
  
"I guess they kind of have to." At Angel's frown, she expounded. "Well, we *are* talking about *you*, Angel." She raised her brows drolly. "Same guy who smashed the Gem of Amarra because it made things too easy for him?"  
  
And he had to smile, because hadn't he recently thought the same thing? One would think that Willow would be ignorant of a great many things, since she was often on the sidelines. But, no, she used that opportunity to learn objectively, then put that knowledge to terrifically cunning use.  
  
"I wish we'd gotten to know each other better over the years," Angel sighed.  
  
"In a way we did, it just was via the Buffster," Willow reminded him. "Now, can we get inside? I really want to dig into this burger."  
  
So inside they went. Spike was sprawled on the empty bed, Drusilla on top of him. He was running a hand through her hair, the other tracing circles on the small of her back. Comforting her. Angel was on guard instantly, knowing full well how protective Spike was of Dru. To his surprise, Spike didn't say anything to Willow, just looked at the fast food bag with one raised brow.  
  
Willow's lips twisted wryly, and she reached inside and pulled out one of the burgers, setting it on the desk. "Not that you deserve it," she told Spike petulantly. "But there you go."  
  
"Fries?" Spike asked hopefully, but Willow shook her head. "Damn. I guess I know better than to tick you off, eh?"  
  
"And don't you forget it," Willow replied.  
  
It was as close to an apology as Spike would ever get, and Angel was relieved that Willow had recognized that and forgiven him without acknowledging either part.  
  
"We need to feed Dev," Angel told Willow softly. "Do you.?"  
  
He saw Willow take a deep breath. It seemed she wanted to leave the room, but then she looked at Dev and shook her head. "I'll stay."  
  
She moved the chair back to the desk, and sat facing them, watching closely as each of them bled themselves into the copper bowl. As Angel was moving Dev, turning her over so that they could get her to drink the blood, the injured vampire whimpered.  
  
"Wait," Willow gasped. "Don't. I can help."  
  
Angel stared at her. "How?"  
  
"Set her back down and get off the bed," was all Willow said.  
  
Angel looked questioningly at Spike, but he looked just as clueless as Angel felt. Drusilla made the decision before the rest of them did, crawling off the bed and taking a step back, Angel and Spike followed suit.  
  
Curiously, Angel looked at Willow. She was standing now, closer to the bed, and her face was scrunched up in concentration.  
  
"Bloody hell."  
  
Angel's head pivoted back around and his eyes widened. Dev was floating a good six inches from the bed. Then, slowly, she began to turn over. Her head lolled back, then came up. Slanting a glance in Willow's direction, he saw that she was shaking slightly with the exertion.  
  
"Feed her," Willow bit out.  
  
Angel lifted the bowl to Dev's mouth. It took a few minutes for her to reflexively swallow it all, and when he was done, he thought Willow would lower her back to the bed.  
  
"Spike. My trunk."  
  
Spike went directly to the trunk by the desk and opened it. "What do you need?"  
  
"Green jar," Willow said in a shaky voice.  
  
Spike rummaged around and then held up a jar for Willow to look at. She nodded. "Salve. Put it on her."  
  
Willow turned Dev, with apparently great effort, once Spike had finished her front. After he was done with the back, Angel saw Willow look to Drusilla, who took the jar from Spike and applied it between Dev's legs. Angel's eyes flew to the floor and stayed there for several long moments. Drusilla was done when he looked up again.  
  
Dev was lowered gently to the bed, Willow going so far as to shift the vampire's head to the right so that her face wasn't pressed against the mattress. He heard Spike curse, caught a glimpse of a blur of motion, and saw Willow falling to her knees only to be jerked upright by Spike's arms around her waist.  
  
"Warn a vampire, Will," Spike drawled as he took the few steps to the unoccupied bed and sat her down. She was shivering now, yet beads of sweat were running down her face.  
  
"S-s-s-sorry," she said between chattering teeth.  
  
Angel grabbed the discarded blanket from Dev's bed and wrapped it around Willow's shoulders. "Is there something we can do, Willow?"  
  
"I just need to rest. Told you, not super-mojo ninja witch."  
  
"We have to get back on the road," Angel said quietly. "But you can lay down in the back of the van if you feel up to it?"  
  
"Okay."  
  
Willow remained on the bed while the vampires fed from the bags in the coolers, and broke camp yet again. When she tried to stand, she plopped back on the bed, her eyes wide and annoyed. Ignoring her protests, Angel lifted her in his arms, blanket and all. "Spike, go check us out," he said over his shoulder as he carried Willow from the room.  
  
She was asleep before they reached the van.  
  
~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^ 


	6. Part 6

Another night, another motel, another throbbing headache from so much driving. Willow glared balefully at the Motor Lodge sign in front of her and almost stomped around the van. "We're here," she called out as she knocked.  
  
The doors opened, and she saw her foul mood mirrored in the others' eyes. Promised an argument of some sort, maybe even a spot of violence, as Angel's tight features didn't lean towards him diffusing any situation that came up. She should have gotten two rooms. Another display of vampire dominance/sexual tension games had not been on her agenda. Though it *had* been much more interesting to see the real thing than it had been to read about it in the dry Watcher's journals.  
  
Sighing, Willow removed the salve and a small talisman she'd fashioned the previous night, after she'd woken from her coma-like sleep, from her trunk and tucked both into the pocket of her jacket. A cooler and her suitcase in hand, Willow told the vampires their room number and then started ahead.  
  
Behind her, she heard Drusilla laughing, the quiet rumble of Spike's deep voice that Willow had come to associate with him being around Drusilla, and Angel, all droll indulgence, telling them to make themselves useful.  
  
And herself, now twenty feet away and more than a world removed from the group behind her. She supposed it was some kind of justice, this, because wasn't this how Spike and Angel had felt in Sunnydale when they'd been surrounded by Scoobies? Though, Spike being Spike, he had taken refuge in anger, which Willow didn't have it in her to do. And Angel had felt he'd deserved being left out. She just felt.lonely. Scared, too. And who did she have to share this with? No one.  
  
She let herself into the motel room, dropped the cooler on a bed, and went directly into the bathroom with her suitcase. She needed a shower, had needed one since her mojo on Dev the previous night, which had covered her in a cloying sheen of sweat.  
  
Stepping under the spray of hot water, Willow tried her best to wash away her fear, her loneliness, her weariness and the blasted headache. They were due for a break. They had to be. Surely the Powers wouldn't have warned Willow and the others just so that they could circle the country in a van that was actually getting pretty rank? Okay, yeah, so as she'd reminded Angel, they couldn't make it *too* easy. She understood that. But, still, this was getting ridiculous. Willow wasn't even sure how long ago they'd left Los Angeles. Two weeks? Three months? A year?  
  
Noise from the other room. The vampires settling in. Maybe she should stay in here a while longer, let them bond and stuff. Or maybe not, she decided as the hot water went down a notch. Hurrying, Willow washed herself and her hair, but didn't beat the retreat of the hot water entirely. She was a bit blue around the edges when she stepped out of the shower stall and wrapped herself in several towels.  
  
She dried herself off and pulled on some clean clothes, a navy blue cashmere sweater and roomy khakis, glad that she'd stopped at a Laundromat two days ago. The cash situation hadn't exactly leant towards her purchasing new clothes. That had her frowning as she pulled her sweater over her head. She'd seen the bills in Angel's wallet dwindling thanks to the motel rooms, her food, and gasoline. Call her crazy, but she really doubted that either he or Spike had money tucked away in other names. Drusilla definitely didn't. More to think on. Just what she needed.  
  
Willow twisted a towel into her hair and padded out of the bathroom on bare feet, wondering how to tactfully suggest that the vampires make use of the shower themselves. She knew they didn't sweat, or anything like that, but it was kind of icky that they hadn't showered more than once each, and only changed their clothes if they became soiled or ripped. She knew Spike had better hygiene habits that than. Angel as well. It was probably because of the situation. Seemed like there wasn't time for many of the small things.  
  
The tension in the room was heavy and made it difficult for Willow to breathe. Studying the three vampires, who were in various states of motion that was obviously for the sake of movement alone, Willow came to a decision and slipped her sneakers on her feet.  
  
"I'm going to the office to arrange another room. Um, far away," she added, not wanting a repeat of the whole Angel's apartment thing.  
  
"What? Why?" Spike snapped. "Not as tough as you think?"  
  
"It's not for me," she snapped back. "*I* am going to stay here with Dev. You three." She motioned at them. "Are going to the other room to do.whatever it is you need to do. Because, we're all strung too tightly as it is, and this.whatever it is, is making it worse."  
  
"Never thought I'd see the day," Spike drawled, that vicious smirk on his lips, "that Little Miss Willow sent three vampires off to--how did you put it? Make the beast with three backs and--OW! Bleedin' hell!"  
  
Willow glared at him and sent the lamp back to the end table while he clutched the side of his head and snarled at her. "Shut up, Spike," she demanded. "This is exactly why I'm doing it."  
  
"Willow, we're not going to stay somewhere else," Angel told her firmly, moving to stand in front of her.  
  
"Oh, yes you are, because you're certainly not going to do.that in this room while I'm here," Willow said, a little panicked. "I mean it. That's, um, so not going to happen."  
  
Angel rolled his eyes. "We're not going to be doing anything anywhere. I don't know what exactly you think is going on, but--"  
  
"I *know* exactly what's going on," she said patiently.  
  
He looked away, his shoulders hunching forward, and Willow berated herself for not handling this right. But, really, it wasn't something she did every day.  
  
Willow reached up and put her hands on Angel's shoulders. "I'm not judging," she assured him. "As far as I'm concerned, this isn't real life, any of this. Whatever happens is just.what happens. So, I'm not going to be staring at you in disapproval, or telling anyone about it." She shook her head sadly. "This isn't real, and if you--all of you--can take advantage of that and get something you've been.missing, then go ahead."  
  
Angel's eyes darkened so much that she couldn't distinguish iris from pupil, and he shook his head, like he was in shock. Willow felt a presence behind her, and looked over her shoulder to see Drusilla hovering. Her arms curled around Willow's waist and she pressed a kiss on her hair.  
  
"Precious," Drusilla whispered in her ear. "Such wisdom you have to know that it is but a dream even though we are awake."  
  
She drifted away, and Willow felt strangely bereft, purposeless, as she stood there with her hands on Angel's shoulders. His hands settled on hers, lowering them and tightening briefly. A frown pulled his brows together, and Willow recognized it. "Don't even think of apologizing. Seriously."  
  
Angel's lips quirked into a small smile. "Fine, I won't say I'm sorry that you get left alone here."  
  
Willow laughed and pulled her hands out of his, lightly slapping his chest. "Such an Angel thing to do. All I ask is that you three shower. Small compensation." She wiggled her fingers in a 'gimme' motion. "Now, hand over the cash."  
  
Angel shook his head. "Stay put. I'll take care of it. You look like you could use another round of rest."  
  
"Yeah." Willow took the towel from her head and tossed it in the general direction of the bathroom; it was making her headache worse. "But we need to feed Dev first."  
  
"We'll take care of it after I get the other room." He paused. "You shouldn't help."  
  
Willow waved his concern away. Spike snorted. "Oh, please," he drawled sarcastically. "Don't be coy. You just want to fall into my arms again, right?"  
  
There was something familiar about those words that made Willow frown. "Um, I'll be fine," she answered absently, pulling the talisman from her pocket. "This will keep me from getting drained like I did last night."  
  
"Dabbling with the dark arts, are you?" Spike asked, his voice hard.  
  
"Not. It'll just help me focus the energy better. The reason I collapsed," Willow explained, "was because I couldn't direct it only at Dev. It was all around the room, and I had to concentrate on moving just Dev and not everything that wasn't bolted to the floor."  
  
"Don't push yourself past your limits," Angel warned. "I mean it, Willow."  
  
"I won't. I promise."  
  
With that, he left to arrange the other room. Willow kicked her sneakers off again and threw herself on the bed. A cold hand pressed against her forehead. Drusilla. Willow groaned when the vampire's fingers massaged her temples.  
  
"Look at me," Drusilla sang, and Willow tensed.  
  
Spike's voice cracked through the room. "Dru. What did we tell you?"  
  
"Hush, luv," Drusilla called out. "Just taking the pain away. Her head is tight, like a spring. Look at me, precious."  
  
Willow glanced at Spike, who was staring at Drusilla with narrowed eyes. "It's okay, Red."  
  
Steeling herself, Willow met Drusilla's eyes. And fell, for what seemed like forever, before she landed softly and found herself lying on the bed looking at Drusilla. Her head was pain free.  
  
"Thank you," Willow said gratefully.  
  
Angel returned then, and Willow sat up on the bed as they filled the copper bowl with their blood. When they were ready, she tossed the salve at Angel and held the talisman with both hands. True to her word, Willow was no worse for the wear when they'd finished.  
  
"We're in room 152," Angel told her. "Get some sleep while we're gone?"  
  
"I will."  
  
After they'd left, Willow lifted the phone and requested a wake up call in an hour and a half. She turned off all the lights in the room except the one next to Dev's bed, then laid down next unconscious vampire. The bed was roomy enough that Willow wouldn't have to worry about jarring Dev.  
  
As she cuddled beneath a blanket, she realized that Drusilla hadn't just made her head feel better; every muscle in her body was looser than it had been in days. Sighing, she drifted off to sleep.  
  
***  
  
Later, down the hall, Angel and Spike bolted into sitting positions on the bed when the phone rang in the motel room. It was on Spike's side, and he glared at it for a moment before he grabbed the receiver and put it to his ear. He said nothing, then he heard Willow's voice and relaxed.  
  
"Um, sorry if I'm--well, I mean--shoot, we need to leave in half an hour. Don't forget to shower."  
  
The phone clicked as she hung up, and Spike chuckled as he set the receiver down. "Wake up call from Willow," he told Angel, who grinned.  
  
"I keep thinking she can't surprise me again, and she does," Angel commented, sitting up, much to Drusilla's dismay. "We need to get moving, Dru."  
  
"Like I said, you never did look beyond the Slayer," Spike replied, lighting a cigarette and stretching out.  
  
He felt better than he had in days. Angel had made good on his promise, reminding both him and Dru that they'd voluntarily given him dominion over them. It had been good and right and just what the doctor had ordered for them all. He laughed at that thought. Doctor Willow, writing the 'scripts to make them all better.  
  
"Said not to forget to shower," Spike remembered. "You and Dru go first. I want to smoke a bloody load of fags while I still can." Angel stilled, and Spike shrugged. "Yeah, well, it's different now, isn't it?" he said uncomfortably, looking away.  
  
"Yeah, it is," Angel said quietly, then led Dru into the bathroom.  
  
As they showered, Spike thought about how eerily Willow's earlier words had echoed his own thoughts on the situation they were in. Despite his dig at Angel, Spike *had* been knocked flat by her little speech. The Willow he'd taken to L.A..he would've thought nothing could make her accept Angel, Spike and Drusilla reestablishing their little family, even temporarily. But she had, and not because it was necessary, or because there was no way around it, but because she understood. Maybe not all of it, but enough.  
  
Dru and Angel came out of the bathroom, and Spike crushed out his latest cigarette, strolling bare-assed passed them to take his own shower. The thing about Willow was, she had a soft heart. Spike could relate to that, even if his own didn't extend a great deal further than a chosen few. The only reason she'd come to terms with everything so far, and the Aureolus reunion in particular, was because she liked people to hurt as little as possible.  
  
It was something that Spike had exploited in the past, knowing instinctively how to make it hurt a little more than she'd expected since he was experienced with being on the receiving end of it. He figured that just like Drusilla and Dev had come to appreciate his inability to say no to anything they wanted, they also coming to depend on Willow's fierce need to keep them in as good a place as possible, mentally.  
  
***  
  
The next night they stopped again even though the plan had been to keep going until the following evening. But Drusilla had been restless all day, unable to sit still, her mutterings more conspicuous than usual. Her troubled gaze had fallen on Dev rather often, and nothing Spike or Angel had done had calmed her down. They'd decided to stop when she began kicking at the walls in the van, and Angel had been the one to knock on the divider between the front and back, while Spike had physically restrained Drusilla so that her flailing limbs didn't catch Dev.  
  
As soon as Willow had checked them in and brought the van around the back of the motel, Drusilla exploded out of the van, her head tilted back and her manic gaze on the stars. Unintelligible whispers tumbled from her lips and she rocked back and forth.  
  
Willow eyed her with concern, but didn't approach her. Spike moved towards the upset vampire and she threw herself into his arms, sobbing hysterically.  
  
"Go for a walk, luv?" he offered quietly, rubbing his forehead against her hair.  
  
She shook her head. "Noooooo."  
  
Spike didn't look up as he spoke to Angel. "Can you manage?"  
  
"Yes, take her inside. Willow, give him the key."  
  
Willow tossed the room key to him and Spike took Drusilla inside, sitting on the bed and pulling her into his lap. "What's bothering you, pet?" he cooed. "Why are you so upset?"  
  
She just sobbed harder, clutching at him with a grip so hard he could feel the bruises forming. "Noooooo," she mewled again.  
  
Angel came in, Dev tucked in his arms. Willow was right behind him, her suitcase in one hand, the plastic sheet in the other. She made quick work of getting the other bed ready for Dev, and Angel set the vampire down gently. "I'll get the cooler," Willow mumbled, looking troubled.  
  
"No, she's running!" Drusilla screamed, fighting her way out of Spike's arms.  
  
Willow spun around, her eyes wide.  
  
***  
  
There was no time to think, no time to do anything but what she needed to do. Willow ignored Drusilla's distress, knowing that she needed to get the information they so desperately required.  
  
"Where is she?" Willow asked Dru calmly.  
  
"Nowhere," Drusilla cried out, tumbling to her knees. Willow joined her on the floor staying out of arm's reach.  
  
"What do you see, Dru?" Willow pushed, closing her eyes so and making her mind a blank canvas for the words Drusilla would be painting.  
  
"I see my Dev running and getting nowhere. She's in pain.so much pain in her tiny body. It hurts me."  
  
She heard noises from Angel and Spike, but didn't acknowledge them. "Where is she running to?" Willow asked quietly.  
  
"To the tree," Drusilla choked. "It droops and sags, but it's stronger than the tallest tree. Red.such red leaves.and inside it, the tingle, the power."  
  
Willow picture Dev in a hallway, the tree at the end of it. "Is Dev at the tree yet?"  
  
"Yes, but she's so weak.she's been running for so long. But she feels safe there," Dru added with childlike trust.  
  
The certainty of that statement stopped Willow momentarily. "How do you know she feels safe there, Dru?"  
  
"Because my Devil doesn't look scared, that's why. If the tree wasn't there, she'd be frightened, I can see that in her eyes."  
  
"What is your Devil doing?"  
  
Drusilla whimpered suddenly. "She's talking...but I can't hear her. I don't know what she's telling me. I don't know how I'm supposed to help her." A keening sound emanated from the other woman, and Willow winced.  
  
"Dru," Willow said sternly. "What else is she doing? Is she moving?"  
  
"Yes, yes she is!" Drusilla answered triumphantly. "She's pointing at something."  
  
"What is she pointing at?" Willow pushed, the image in her mind changing to match what Drusilla was describing.  
  
"I don't know."  
  
Willow paused, and gathered her thoughts. "Look at what she's pointing at, Drusilla," she suggested gently.  
  
"Don't want to look away from my Devil," Drusilla said petulantly. "Something bad might happen if I do."  
  
"You said that Dev feels safe with under the tree," Willow reminded her. "Look where she's pointing."  
  
"I--I--I'm not sure if I should," Drusilla stammered haltingly.  
  
"She needs you to look, Dru," Willow said patiently. "She might die if you don't look." Dru was silent. "Do you want to help your Devil?"  
  
"Oh, very much," Dru said passionately.  
  
"Then you have to look."  
  
"All right," Dru said smally. A pause. "Words, I think, but I can't read them. I don't know the words," she wailed fretfully.  
  
"It's okay, Dru," Willow comforted. "Can you copy them onto paper?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Spike is going to get you paper, and something to write with. You need to copy them perfectly," Willow said somberly.  
  
"I will."  
  
She heard movement, then the sound of a pen scratching against paper, as well as Drusilla's humming.  
  
"There. All done. They are very pretty words, even if I don't know what they mean," Drusilla said thoughtfully.  
  
"You did very well, Dru," Willow praised. "Now you need to look at your Devil again. Can you do that?"  
  
"Oh, yes. She's smiling!" Drusilla giggled happily. Then she abruptly gasped, and whimpered. "Nonononono. Scared. Terrified. Hurt. Pain. Nonononono."  
  
"Drusilla!" Willow's voice was like a whip, cutting remorselessly into Drusilla's ramblings. "Why is Dev scared?"  
  
"Don't know," she keened.  
  
"What is she doing?"  
  
"Staring at the sky, terror in her eye. Staring at the sky, terror in her eye. Staring at the sky, terror in her eye."  
  
"Look up, Drusilla!" Willow ordered her harshly. "Lift your head and see what is making her scared."  
  
"Nnnnnn," Drusilla wailed. "There are eyes. Red, glowing, hateful eyes. They want to hurt my Devil, but they can't see her through the branches. It's protecting her, but it's getting weaker. The branches are breaking, and soon the eyes will be able to get my Devil. The eyes that think themselves the fingers of God. The eyes that want to know her secrets and lies. The eyes that want to twist her up and rip her apart."  
  
Willow's heart clenched, but she ignored it. "Are the eyes in the sky, Drusilla?"  
  
"Yes," Dru sobbed.  
  
"Look around. Are they alone?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Okay," Willow acknowledge, and took a breath. "Look back down at your Devil."  
  
A swift intake of unneeded breath. "She's moving from under the tree, walking a little bit away. My Devil is dressed in branches, and she blends in with the tree. She's smiling, and she doesn't hurt. The eyes, they don't know. They're attacking the tree, and it is going to die soon, but not really."  
  
"The tree will die?" Willow repeated brokenly.  
  
"I'd like to go for a walk."  
  
***  
  
Spike closed the motel door behind him, carrying the receiver for the baby monitor Willow had gotten in Los Angeles, and which hadn't been used since then. The back doors of the van were open, and Willow sat between them, her legs dangling several inches from the ground.  
  
He approached her slowly and sat carefully next to her.  
  
"Angel's probably kicking himself six ways from Sunday," she said suddenly, staring down at her hands.  
  
That was putting it lightly. The look on Angel's eyes when he'd left with Dru.  
  
"Hm, I 'spose," Spike said slowly.  
  
Willow shrugged and hopped out of the van. "I think I should be worried-- really worried. Probably scared, too," she commented idly, facing him. "But I'm not. Know why?"  
  
Spike watched her hands disappear into the sleeves of her blue sweater. She seemed so calm, so blank. "It's the whole 'not really' thing. Leaves a lot left unsaid," he offered. "Not that Dru's visions are faultless to begin with."  
  
One arm wrapped itself around her waist, and her other hand, still encased in that soft blue material, rubbed against her cheek. "Will Dru be okay?"  
  
"Yes," Spike laughed, tilting his head back in absolute disbelief at this chit, with the softest heart and thinnest skin he'd every come across. "Dru will be bloody peachy, Red, and I'm sure you'll wrack your brains and come up with some soddin' brilliant way of making Angel feel all right about it all." He lowered his head and glared at her. "You'll figure out what to do about Dev, too, 'cause this is you we're talking about, ain't it?"  
  
Spike slipped from the van, stalked towards her and grabbed her chin. "Meanwhile, where does all that leave you?"  
  
She frowned, confused. "What? Do you mean--oh, right." She nodded her head and patted his hand with a blue covered fist. "I'll still suck it up. Don't worry about that."  
  
"Haven't you realized yet that you should tell me to sod off when I say shite like that?" he practically shouted. "Bloody everyone else has. But no, not you. Can't be the damnable martyr then, is that it?"  
  
She shoved past him with, dislodging his hand from her chin, and walked away. Fuck that. Spike wrapped his hand around her arm and spun her around. "Hit a little to close to home, St. Willow?" he jeered.  
  
He saw her face whiten, and knew he should stop, should let her go and drop the subject. But he just couldn't, and damned if he knew why.  
  
"You think that a few months of being around me means that you *know* me?" Willow hissed furiously.  
  
"It does," he bit out, grinning maliciously, "because as much as your parents may have told you you're special, you're just like a million other people out there, and I know people." He jerked her closer, until her body was flush with his, stared down at her with disgust, then released her so abruptly that she stumbled back.  
  
"Congratulations," she told him coldly, her back ridged and ramrod straight.  
  
"On which part?" he retorted almost pleasantly, but he could feel the curl of his lip, knew that brow of his was lifted disdainfully. "Sticking the knife in?" He made an appropriate stabbing motion with his hand. "Or twisting it just so?" His whole body undulated as he then followed it with a sharp twist. Lowering his hand, he shrugged. "Because, they're both noteworthy."  
  
"Getting through to me," she countered distinctly. Spike frowned and she bared her teeth in a disturbing semblance of a smile before laughing harshly. "Buffy, Xander, Giles.none of them could. So, thank you, and remember not to break the doors, because there's no way we'll be able to get another van around here."  
  
The doors? What the hell?  
  
"Fuck!" Spike screamed as he landed painfully in the back of the van. He scurried to his feet but the doors slammed shut and locked. He heard Willow's voice, one last time.  
  
"Truce is over."  
  
***  
  
Willow ran into the motel room and slammed the door shut, muttering a quick apology to Dev. She was shaking. Oh, and she was crying. Damn it, no. She refused to cry. Hell, she wasn't stopping.  
  
She couldn't believe that she'd let him get to her like that. Falling onto the bed, she shook her head. That wasn't true. She knew full well why he'd gotten to her. It was because he was right. She *did* tend to martyr herself, and she *had* jumped on the "suck it up" train a little too eagerly, and with more gung-ho than necessary.  
  
He was also wrong, though; it wasn't something she did to make herself seem better than anyone else. It just seemed to be how she often found herself. Well, except for this time. This time she'd consciously made the decision to focus on everyone else, because she needed the distraction to make things easier to handle, to keep herself from driving the van into a wall at sixty miles an hour just so it would be over, because there was no end in sight. Which was damned funny, because nothing had even *happened* yet. But maybe that's why she was so desperate, because it was bad enough now that she didn't want to contemplate how much worse it might get.  
  
Why had Spike felt the need to tear into her like that? Ah, but she knew the answer to that, didn't she? Yes, she did. The fool was just as scared as the rest of them, but God forbid he just admit it. Oh, heavens no. Jerk. And he wasn't likely to get any better, after what Willow had just done. Willow tore her hands through her hair and sighed heavily. She had seriously pissed him off, and the repercussions weren't going to be pretty. The only recourse she had to keep from getting drawn in again was to just fall back on ignoring him as best she could.  
  
The motel door opened, and she lifted her head to see Angel and Drusilla enter the room. The heavy cloak of guilt in Angel's eyes lifted slightly when he looked around the room. "Where's Spike?"  
  
"I locked him in the van. Hopefully I threw him hard enough to knock him out," Willow said spitefully.  
  
"What did he do?" Angel growled, fists clenching at his side.  
  
She had about as much energy for another testosterone showdown as she did for a round of easing Angel's guilt, so she waved it away. "Nothing, really," she said honestly. "Just.hit a sore spot. Can we get moving again?"  
  
***  
  
In the van, Spike nursed the back of his head, which had bounced off the metal floor when Willow had sent him hurtling inside. Damn her, damn him, damn it all.  
  
He would have called it a miscalculation on his part, except that implied he'd had a goal in mind. Which he decidedly hadn't. No, he'd just lashed out in his typical fashion. Bloody lovely. Angel was going to beat the shit out of him. And for what? Why had he gotten so angry? Generally, he didn't bother himself with whatever self-destructive behavior anyone chose to partake of.  
  
Through the monitor, he heard a door slam, some mumbling, and then sniffling. Aw hell, the chit was crying now. Even if he survived Angel, the Slayer was going to make him wish he hadn't. Shit.  
  
He slammed his fist against the side of the van. He should have just left her alone, no matter that if she kept it up, she was going to walk away from this a shell of what she was.  
  
Spike sat up, eyes wide. Hell. Bloody *fucking* hell. Drusilla's vision had ramifications beyond the obvious. Willow was putting her life on the line for one of them, and that made Willow herself one of them. He ran a weary hand over his face. That's what had happened out there. His bloody subconscious had just registered it before him; they all had a duty to Willow now, a duty to do for her and give to her everything that they did and gave to each other.  
  
Drusilla had realized it already. Spike had assumed that her pet name for Willow, and her flashes of protectiveness, had spawned from Dev's magic. Or the bonding the women had done after Willow had finally seen Dev. Completely wrong, that. Drusilla had already reclassified Willow.  
  
Spike grinned then; considering this new turn in events, he'd been completely justified tonight. Of course, Angel hadn't realized it yet and who knew how many punches Spike was going to have to take before he listened. More than a few, he guessed. Eh, he could take a few.  
  
More voices through the monitor. Angel and Dru were back. Spike listened to Willow tell Angel what she'd done. "My head is harder than that, Red," he drawled, smiling at her 'umph'.  
  
Willow asked Angel if they could leave, and he agreed. There was a pause and then he continued with, "Willow, about what Dru said. If I'd known, I would never have gotten you involved. I mean that."  
  
Even with the crappy reception, Spike could hear the weight to those words, the metric ton of guilt that had been ladled on, and he frowned. It wasn't entirely Willow's fault that she pushed herself aside; those around her tended to manipulate her, most of the time unwittingly, into a position where that cotton heart of hers had no choice but to take over.  
  
"It's not your fault and you have nothing to make up to me, so drop it," Spike heard Willow say flatly. "I'll be in the van."  
  
A slow grin crept across his features. "Good girl. May be hope for you yet. Let's just hope the sire-figure gets it through his head, too."  
  
***  
  
Willow avoided Spike the next night. Skillfully. Wherever he was, she found a way to be someplace else. Which was harder than it sounded when they were occupying one room. It irked Spike to no end and consequently he'd done his best to force her to acknowledge him. She'd showered, then said she was going to the restaurant attached to the motel for some food. Spike had tried to follow her, but she'd changed direction at the last moment and taken off in the van.  
  
When she'd returned half an hour later, it had been time for him and Angel to do another blood run. He'd tried to beg off, but Angel was having none of that. He'd curled his lip at Spike and told him to hurry the hell up.  
  
It took five minutes of dodging punches and wresting himself from Angel's grip before Spike finally got the other vampire to stop hitting and start listening.  
  
"Hey," he shouted at Angel, ducking out of the way of a punch. "Turn those fists on yourself, since you're the one in the wrong."  
  
Angel lowered his raised fist and stared at Spike incredulously. "What? I haven't done anything to Willow."  
  
Spike snorted and wiped blood from his face with the back of his hand. "Exactly."  
  
"What are you talking about?" Angel asked haltingly, confusion etched on his features.  
  
Spike moved forward and stared Angel down. "You don't get the benefits without paying the dues," Spike said clearly. "You're the one who taught me that." Then he stepped back and watched in satisfaction as Angel finally understood.  
  
Angel ran his hand across the back of his neck and sighed. "I forgot," he said flatly. "I forgot."  
  
"Yeah, you did," Spike agreed, lighting a cigarette. "To be expected. It's been how long since you last did this? Let's not forget the fact that you've been fraternizing with the humans and getting used to their ways. Same as me," he tacked on when Angel shot him a look. "Didn't realize it until yesterday. Dru, on the other hand, she's known a while."  
  
Angel shook his head. "She's more sensitive to these things. Damn."  
  
"Will's ours," Spike said plainly, cutting through the rest of the shit. "And you've got to deal with it, because in the ten minutes we were all in the motel, I saw you shoot eight, maybe nine of those patented looks at her." Spike raised a brow and Angel looked away.  
  
"She's got a marshmallow for a heart," Spike went on. "Every time she has to comfort you is one more time that she neglects herself, and you know better than anyone what that leads to."  
  
Angel narrowed his eyes on him consideringly. "I take it you flung that truth home to her last night in your usual cruel fashion?" he said icily, and Spike squirmed just a bit, pretty much confirming it. "Am I supposed to believe it was for her own good instead of just lashing out at a convenient target?"  
  
Spike snorted and rolled his eyes. "Of course," he said smugly.  
  
Since the end had justified the means Angel couldn't technically punish Spike even if he believed that Spike's intentions hadn't been honorable. By the look he was getting, Spike was damn sure that Angel knew the truth of the matter, and understood the gray area.  
  
They didn't speak much for the rest of the run, and when they got back to the motel, only Drusilla and Dev were there. Drusilla told them Willow had gone outside, and when they hurried into the parking lot, they saw her silhouetted in the front seat of the van, her face lit by the glow from her laptop screen.  
  
Spike took a step towards her, ready to storm the bloody vehicle, but Angel flung an arm across his chest. "Don't push her," he said quietly. "Now that I know what you hit her with, I think she's got some thinking to do. "  
  
Which made sense, but didn't do a damned thing for Spike.  
  
"You've been trying to get in her face all night," Angel stated. "Why?"  
  
"I already told you," Spike equivocated, turning away. "We have a responsibility to her now."  
  
Angel put a hand on the back of Spike's neck and tugged him close. His forehead came to rest on Spike's and he smiled. "Don't lie to me, Spike," he said in that velvet voice of his. "That's not all of it. Tell me why."  
  
Spike closed his eyes and swayed forward, saying nothing.  
  
"Spike."  
  
There was a bit of bite to the word that had Spike shivering and pressing closer. "I don't hate her," he admitted reluctantly.  
  
Angel shifted, moving Spike's head to the crook of his neck. "Wasn't so bad, was it?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
A throaty chuckle. "Doesn't make you weak, you know." Spike grunted and tensed, but Angel pulled him closer. "Relax. I'm not Angelus, Spike, but that doesn't mean I'm going to try to corrupt you to the good side. I missed *you*, not something you think I might try to turn you into."  
  
Angel pulled back and framed Spike's face with his hands, face sober. "Pay attention. That thing you have, that ability to actually give a damn?" Angel shook his head and tightened his grip on Spike's face. "It's not weakness, no matter what Drusilla might have said in a fit of fury."  
  
And then he did try to pull away, but Angel wouldn't let him go. "Using the truth against someone is one of the best ways to hurt a person, but it's not the only one," Angel said firmly. "Preying on someone's own insecurity is another."  
  
Yes, he knew that. Hadn't he pulled that on the Scoobies during that Adam debacle?  
  
"Did Angelus tolerate weakness?"  
  
"No," Spike snapped.  
  
Angel raised a brow.  
  
"Think that's a convincing argument?" Spike parried, once again trying to pull away. This time Angel let him. "Maybe the soul's distorted your view of things, but not mine. I remember every jab he took."  
  
"Not because he thought it was weak of you to care about Drusilla," Angel shot back, "but because he knew that your doubt would give someone an opening on you, and he didn't want that. You damn well know it."  
  
Spike *had* known and believed that. Until that wanker, that pale imitation of Angelus with the hard-on for getting revenge on the Slayer, had shown up in Sunnydale. Since then, Spike had found it difficult to look back and not second-guess everything, to not wonder if maybe the wanker hadn't just finally done and said what Angelus had always wanted to.  
  
"The last thing I was going for was a therapy session," Angel said ruefully, laughing.  
  
Spike laughed as well. "What brought that on, anyway?"  
  
Angel grinned. "Same thing that always brought it on. Stop trying to get me to 'express my feelings'." He smirked, and Spike lifted a brow, waiting. "That's your department. 'I don't hate her'," he mocked, his voice trembling and kind of squishy.  
  
"Oh, sod off," Spike growled, but he had to fight back a smile when Angel kept at it as they made their way back to the room.  
  
It was complicated and simple at the same time. Back in the Los Angeles, he'd warned Angel against reprising Angelus' role in every way. Then he'd gone ahead and given him tacit permission to do so by sitting on the floor. To add fuel to the fire, Spike had reminded Angel of the duties that came along with the responsibility. Still, he'd expected Angel to go only as far as dominance with him and Drusilla, applying the rest to Willow. He hadn't even considered that Angel might start acting like the patriarch Angelus had been.  
  
If it had happened before Spike had come to understand the whole reality- vacation deal, he would have balked. But he knew that this was just a slip of non-time, and he planned on taking advantage of it.  
  
***  
  
In the van, Willow rolled up the window and watched with wide eyes as the vampires retreated. That had been Angel, not Angelus, which totally blew her mind. And Spike.she'd never imagined him seeking reassurance, though she wasn't surprised at the backhanded manner in which he'd set about getting it. That had been typical Spike, that.  
  
Okay, there'd been *nothing* in the Watcher journals about.familial ties. And that was what she'd just witnessed, she acknowledged. The head of a family both guiding and shoving another member passed self-imposed barriers. It was a revelation. She'd thought it had been about sex and authority, but now she knew that it was about more. It was about those wacky vampires from the Order of Aurelis, who broke every mould that had been used to make them.  
  
It made sense, suddenly, why they had instilled fear in even their own species. One might say that they had each other's backs. An alien sentiment to most vampires, to be sure, and something that had made each of the individuals as strong as the whole.  
  
It made Willow feel better about the whole situation. She wasn't being left in the dust for rutting and spanking--and, oh, bad mental image--but was witnessing a family come together again. She accepted that she *didn't* and *couldn't* have a place there, but it didn't leave her feeling lonely. Because families were their own unit, sure, but they also had friends.  
  
The rest of what she'd overheard, that wasn't nearly as easy to understand. Had Spike actually admitted to liking her? As in, he wasn't going to take the first opportunity to rip her throat out? It boggled her mind, mostly because she couldn't reconcile that with what he'd done last night.  
  
Then again, she was looking at it from her very human perspective, wasn't she? As she'd just seen, vampires didn't tend to go about things in the same manner. It was most certainly food for thought, just like the other things Spike had forced her to think about. Such as, was she actually harming herself in the long run by concentrating on everyone but herself? The simple answer to that was, yes. The hard part was deciding whether or not she cared to change it, and even harder was figuring out what to do instead if she did want to change it.  
  
Either way, hiding in the van seemed kind of foolish all of a sudden. She looked at her watch and saw that there was still an hour before they would hit the road again. She closed the laptop and went back to the room.  
  
***  
  
Angel made a concerted effort to keep any guilt he was feeling off of his face when Willow came in. Much as it galled him to admit it, Spike had been completely and totally right about what was going on with her. If Angel thought about it, he could recall every instance that Willow had put aside her own feelings and needs for the rest of them since she'd gotten to L.A. Spike was right; Angel knew full well what that would mean for her down the road.  
  
He could also admit that he hadn't seen it earlier because he'd been too selfish to look past what was developing between him, Spike and Dru. Then he'd become too caught up in them to remember the responsibility that came with the pretense.  
  
"Gonna duck into the bathroom?" Spike sniped at Willow.  
  
Angel hid a grin at the petulant tone in Spike's voice. Trust Spike to be so contrary. Finally got her in the same room, then acted like a child.  
  
"Nope," Willow replied cheerfully.  
  
Eyes wide, Angel tilted his head and took a good look at her. None of the tightness that had been present in her earlier was there anymore. None of the coldness, either. What exactly had gone on in that nimble mind of hers?  
  
Spike shrugged and glared at her. "Well, we already took care of Dev, so we don't need you. Feel free to flee to the van again."  
  
Angel had the overwhelming urge to smack Spike. Willow beat him to it, striding across the room to whack her hand across the back of his head. Must have been hard, too, because Spike slid off the edge of the bed and landed on his ass. Angel snickered, and Drusilla peered over the side of the other bed, laughing delightedly.  
  
"You are such a jerk, Spike," Willow announced, hands on her hips. An unreadable expression passed over her face then she nodded her head and smiled. "Yep, total jerk."  
  
The way she said it, it was like an affirmation.  
  
"Hey!" Spike growled, indignation lowering his eyebrows. "I'm not taking too kindly to this new habit you have of assaulting me." His face settled into prissy lines, and he sniffed. "I feel pain, you know."  
  
It clicked. All the little things Angel had picked up on that had at first made him think there was something going on between Spike and Willow, and the subsequent conflicts. They found comfort in the camaraderie they were both quick to deny existed between them and when it had fallen by the wayside due to the strain of the constant moving around, they'd both suffered for it. Hence the nasty altercations.  
  
Angel looked over at them, bickering like kids, and understood it even further. It wasn't about them getting to a place where they were non- violent and non-arguing. It had nothing to do with them ignoring each other. Willow taking her power back was inconsequential. The vampires' duty to Willow only heightened it. Spike not hating Willow was irrelevant. And the camaraderie was just a side effect.  
  
It was about that game Spike had told him about, the one with Spike and Willow on one team and everyone else on the other.  
  
They were polar opposites. Glaringly obvious, yes, but what was less obvious was what exactly that meant for these particular people. These two, they tried so hard to be entirely one-sided, one-dimensional. They mostly succeeded, too. It was easy to ignore the seldom seen softer side of Spike and categorize him as evil. Because he was. It was just as easy to ignore the ramifications of Willow's vampire self and her more intense studies of witchcraft, and categorize her as wholesome and good. Because she was.  
  
No one was that simple, especially not these two. Angel had never denied that about either of them individually, but he also had never considered both of them at the same time. Spike and Willow.they had the power to completely and utterly destroy each other and themselves without even trying. Just as they had the power to do the polar opposite.  
  
It was a clear sign of just how far gone Angel was that he didn't know which option he preferred when he knew what would be involved in the latter.  
  
*** 


	7. Part 7

They were on the road again. Maybe still. Did those pit stops even count? Spike didn't know, and he didn't care either. He was behind the wheel of the van, the Clash was on the CD player, and there was a red-head in the passenger seat giving as good as she got. All in all, it was shaping up to be a damned fine day, er, night.  
  
Hadn't been easy, keeping the Clash on. It had involved a stunning display of vampire strength and speed, followed by a demonstration of telekinetic prowess, and had culminated in Spike hanging Willow's padded CD holder out of the van then closing the strap in the window.  
  
She'd endured barely five minutes of static (they seemed to be perpetually between signals) and the thud-crack of the CD holder against the side of the van before forking over his Clash CD.  
  
"Did we just cross a state line?"  
  
"No clue," Spike answered her diffidently. "Wasn't paying attention."  
  
He heard a round of senseless noises and sneaked a peak at Willow. Her face was all scrunched up and her mouth was open.  
  
"But, my map!" she gasped, shoving something under his nose. Spike caught a brief glimpse of a cheap gas station map that had been colored on before she snatched her hand back. "See, I've marked all of our routes, our stopping points, and indicated what motels we stayed at."  
  
"Why?" Spike asked in astonishment. "Don't have enough on your plate as it is without becoming a mapmaker?" He shook his head. "You're going to have a heart attack before you're thirty. You type As are notorious for it."  
  
"Sod off," she snapped, and Spike smirked. "How else do you think I make sure that we don't cross our own path? Hello--we're on the run, remember?"  
  
"Kind of hard to forget," Spike said drolly. "But do you honestly think they're criss-crossing the damned country behind us?"  
  
"You never know," Willow insisted. "Just because they have magic, doesn't mean they're relying solely on it. Pays to be safe."  
  
"Whatever."  
  
"Oh, hey, do you have that paper Drusilla wrote on?"  
  
Spike rolled his eyes and deducted five years from her heart-attack age. "Yeah, I've got it," he drawled, shaking his head. He braced the steering wheel with his knees and began riffling through the pockets of his duster. A small whimper had him smirking, and he turned his head to look at Willow. "It's here somewhere," he said innocently, slowly patting the sides of the duster.  
  
She threw out her hand and clutched at the dashboard. A perfect ten. Spike located the paper in the inside pocket, and tossed it at Willow, then took the opportunity to light a cigarette. When he was finally driving "properly" again, her hand left the dashboard and picked up the paper that had landed in her lap.  
  
"Hopefully this will--this isn't in English."  
  
"Did you *not* hear Drusilla say she couldn't understand the words?"  
  
"I did, I just thought--"  
  
"What, that she was bloody illiterate?" Spike growled indignantly.  
  
"That's not what I was going to say. I mean, she *was* going to be a nun," Willow said wryly. "I sort of assumed that meant reading the bible."  
  
Well, didn't that just take the wind out of his sails? Hmph. "Oh, right, yeah."  
  
"I just thought that the vision might have been like a dream, 'cause you know, you can't read in dreams, even if you think--this is Sanskrit. Spike, this is *Sanskrit*" she shouted excitedly.  
  
"Okay, yeah, and that means.?"  
  
She unfastened her seatbelt and twisted around the seat, then ducked her head under the dash and felt around on the floor. "Where's my laptop? I *did* bring it up here, didn't I?"  
  
"Sit up," Spike demanded. "You're going to break your damn head open."  
  
"I can't," he heard her muffled voice say. "I need it."  
  
Spike reached across the seat and hooked his fingers in the belt loops of her jeans, yanking up. Her head smacked against the panel and she squealed. "Ow. That was my head!"  
  
"Told you," Spike said smugly. "Now sit up and I'll give you the bloody machine."  
  
She reappeared, one hand rubbing the back of her head, glaring at him. "Jerk."  
  
"Be nice, or you won't get your toy," Spike tsked. Unpleasant mutterings came from her as she pulled her seatbelt back into place. Spike ignored her and reached behind his seat, grabbing hold of the case and dragging it between the seats.  
  
When she would have reached for it, he grabbed her wrist. "If you tell me you've got a bleedin' Sanskrit-to-English dictionary on there, then I'm seriously going to have to insist that you get a hobby," he drawled.  
  
Her eyes widened and she laughed, shaking her head. "Nope, no translator," she assured him, her eyes twinkling.  
  
Spike released her wrist and nodded. "Glad to hear it. So, then, what's the big deal about it being Sanskrit?"  
  
Willow pulled the computer from the case and set it on her knees. "A couple of the Analects passages are in Sanskrit," she told him as she raised the monitor and turned it on.  
  
"I thought you didn't know how to fit all that together?"  
  
"I don't. Not yet." Spike opened his mouth but her voice cut him off. "Aha! Sanskrit entry."  
  
"What are you doing over there if you can't translate it, and you can't look anything up?" Spike asked curiously.  
  
"Making note of where it is," Willow said with a shrug. "This way I can go right to it once I know how to use it."  
  
"Any progress on that yet?"  
  
"It's slow going," she confessed. "I haven't had much time to work on it, what with the spell books I've been looking into, and the fact that I'm driving most of the time or trying to sleep."  
  
By the time dawn came around, Willow had long since put the computer aside and fallen to sleep. Spike roused her with little time to spare for him to shut himself in the back.  
  
Once there, he added his blood to Angel's and Drusilla's, then carefully lifted Dev's head and fed her. "She been in much pain?"  
  
"Not really," Angel replied. "Willow's salve seems to be helping."  
  
Spike crawled around Drusilla and Dev--once again Drusilla was plastered to their child--and sat next to Angel along the side of the van.  
  
They talked for most of the day about nothing really important. It was just.conversation. The likes of which Spike hadn't participated in for longer than he cared to admit. And he found that talking with Angel was actually nicer than talking with Angelus, since Angel didn't stick to murder and mayhem alone, the way Angelus did. Not that Spike didn't mind talk of M&M, but it did get rather monotonous after a decade or two.  
  
The two debated at length about literature, for example, Spike's cynical disgust clashing mightily with Angel's romantic sentimentality. By the time that discussion was over, Angel had been growling--another perfect ten--and the sun had set.  
  
Par for the course, Willow found and then checked them into a motel. They did the standard unloading routine, then fed Dev once again. There was no need for another blood run, so Spike assumed they'd be staying put in the motel, Willow getting some sleep and the rest of them just sort of hanging around.  
  
Instead, Angel stopped Willow as she began to unpack her computer. "Not tonight," he said, shaking his head. "Tonight, we're going out. Drusilla, will you stay here with Dev?"  
  
"Of course," Drusilla agreed immediately, her eyes gleaming.  
  
Stubborn to the end, Willow refused. "I don't want to."  
  
"Tough," Spike announced, realizing what it was about. He took Willow by the wrist and pulled her towards the bathroom. He snagged her suitcase on the way and dumped it into the tiled room. "Go put something snazzy on. We'll be waiting."  
  
She was so bemused by the suddenness of it all that Spike got her into the bathroom, and shut the door on her, before she could say anything further. A few moments later he heard the shower running.  
  
Angel picked up the van keys, which Willow had dropped on the desk, and tossed them at Spike. "Lock the laptop in the back of the van. Keep a hold of the keys."  
  
When Willow came back into the room, her eyes immediately narrowed on the empty desk. Her brows lifted as she turned to Angel. "You mean business, don't you?"  
  
Angel dipped his head in acknowledgement and smiled. "Everyone's had some time away from it, except you."  
  
"I can manipulate locks, you know," she reminded them.  
  
But the glint in her green eyes belied her words. Spike snorted disdainfully. "Yeah, yeah, and you can fling me around like a rag doll." He rolled his yes. "All very cute. Now get your shoes on and prove you can do something impressive, like have fun." He ran his eyes over her dark blue jeans and some kind of matching tank-top/sweater thing. "You consider that snazzy?" he asked disapprovingly.  
  
"No, mainly because I'm under the age of ninety and don't use that word," Willow retorted smartly. "Besides, I didn't bring all that much and what's wrong with what I'm wearing?" she asked, looking down.  
  
Spike didn't say anything, thinking it obvious. He saw Angel eye her critically. "Lose the sweater," Angel suggested. "And.poof your breasts."  
  
Willow gaped at him. "Poof my breasts? What the heck does that mean?"  
  
Angel gestured at his own chest with his hands, curling them around an imaginary set of breasts. "You know, that thing that women do." She raised an eyebrow. "Like when you were pretending to be the Willow vampire." He gestured again, pulling his hands up and out. "Poof."  
  
Spike howled hysterically, doubling over. "More than two centuries old, and over a year with the cheerleader," he gasped, "and that's the best you can come up with? Poof her breasts?"  
  
"That's it, I'm not going," Willow declared stubbornly.  
  
"Spike."  
  
He looked up, still laughing, to see Angel staring at him in consternation, utterly lost as to how to proceed. He knew what Angel was doing: fulfilling his duty. Trying to get Willow to loosen up for the night, to be forced to forget about everything else. Even if that meant making her incredibly uncomfortable.  
  
"Oh, fine," Spike said, pushing his laughter aside.  
  
He strode over to Willow and walked a circle around her. She didn't have a chance to move, much less prevent it, when Spike brought his hands to the back of her shoulders and yanked the sweater down and off.  
  
"Hey!" she squealed, attempting to grab the sweater back from him. Spike tossed it in the corner of the room and frowned at her. Drusilla expressed her approval by clapping and laughing, watching them with wide eyes.  
  
"Aren't those jeans supposed to be three inches lower on your waist?"  
  
"NO! They're where--"  
  
"That's better," Spike said in satisfaction, removing his fingers from the belt loops in her jeans. He smacked her hands away when she tried to pull them back up. "Stop it, now. You shouldn't have bought them if you weren't going to wear them properly," he lectured.  
  
"I *didn't* buy them, darn it!" she snapped, glaring at him for all she was worth. "Buffy did, and I didn't realize I'd packed them."  
  
Spike met Angel's eyes and they shared a grin. Yep, she was definitely not thinking about databases or spells.  
  
"What's the matter, anyway?" Spike asked, circling her again. "You stopped dressing like a frump last year."  
  
"The big deal," Willow hissed, moving with him so that she could keep that glare of hers firmly planted on him, "is that 'poofing my breasts' and putting my belly-button on display isn't appropriate for this little adventure of ours."  
  
Uh-oh. Angel stepped in. "Willow, I don't think you understand," Angel said quietly, firmly. "You don't have a choice. You're going to go out, you're going to forget everything for a little while, and you're going to have fun."  
  
Willow spun on her heel and transferred her glare from Spike to Angel. Spike took advantage of having Willow's back presented to him, and hooked his fingers under the thin straps of the tank top, jerking them towards him and effectively snapping them from the shirt itself.  
  
One of her hands flew to her chest to keep the shirt up, and the other pressed to her forehead. "You're not supposed to team up on me," she groaned miserably. "I can't handle both of you."  
  
"Pet, you can't handle either of us," Spike laughed.  
  
She raised her head slowly and twisted, staring back and forth between Spike and Angel. "I should just give up, shouldn't I?" she said dejectedly. They nodded and she sighed hugely, finally defeated. "And what am I supposed to do for a shirt now?"  
  
"Just fold the front of it under," Spike instructed. "Then pull the straps under your arms and tie them at your back."  
  
She fumbled a bit, and had to turn her back to them to preserve her modesty. Drusilla peered at her with unconcealed interest, but Willow just told her to stop being a peeping-tom.  
  
Her hands met at her back, just to the side of her armpits, but she couldn't tie the straps properly. Spike was considering what she would do if he tried to help her when Angel crossed the room and took the straps from her, expertly tying a knot, then hiding it with a bow.  
  
"There. All set," he said, stepping back.  
  
"First I get to sleep between the two of you, then you dress me," Willow drawled as she turned around, blushing slightly. "No one would believe it even if I was going to tell them."  
  
"So, let's review," Angel said blandly. "What are you going to do tonight?"  
  
Willow's lips twisted. "I'm going to go out, apparently with the male half of the Scourge of Europe, forget about everything, and have fun," she recited dutifully, mirth making her eyes shimmer.  
  
Angel nodded approvingly.  
  
"Right then, off we go," Spike declared.  
  
Outside, Angel informed Spike and Willow that they were going to a bar. One that served food and offered dancing. Situated just off the highway as they were, bars were abundant, and it didn't take them long to find one that met Angel's requirements. Spike pulled into the parking lot, wincing at the sign.  
  
*Billy Bob's--Karaoke Every Thursday*  
  
The wince changed to a shiver of apprehension when he realized that he had no bloody idea what day it was. His fear was confirmed a second later when Willow, who was squished between the two front seats, squealed with delight.  
  
"Karaoke! Oh, and it's tonight!"  
  
He sent a murderous glare at Angel, who just tilted his head down and smiled slightly at Willow. "We don't have much time," he reminded her. "Only about an hour or so. Better make it count."  
  
She moved to her knees and bounced excitedly. "I don't actually sing, I just like to watch. Let me out. Do you think they have ribs? I'd kill for some ribs."  
  
Angel had barely stepped out of the van before Willow was scrambling out after him, her earlier reluctance to unwind nowhere in sight. She bounded ahead, turning back to motion at them to hurry.  
  
"I'll just wait out here," Spike said casually.  
  
Angel ducked his head back in the van. "I'm not suffering alone. Get out."  
  
"Fine," Spike huffed, turning the engine off and jerking the key out of the ignition. He exited the van and slammed the door shut. Angel crossed in front of the van and they started walking. "But I'm not going to have fun," Spike spat, "and don't expect me to not complain."  
  
Angel clapped Spike on the back and grinned. "I'm counting on both those things," he said cryptically.  
  
***  
  
Willow grinned widely at the cramped corner where the Karaoke machine was set up, and tried to guess what the next participant was gong to sing. They had come at the end of an intermission, so while she had had the chance to order the much-craved ribs, she had yet to be subject to the entertainment.  
  
"I bet she goes with.Dancing Queen," Willow told Spike and Angel. "Oh! Or maybe Pat Benitar; she's got that eighties hair going. What do you think?"  
  
"I think I'd rather be back in Harris' basement, tied to that bloody recliner," Spike snapped, taking a swig of his drink.  
  
Willow stuck her tongue out at him and turned to Angel, who just looked at her blankly. "Oh, forget it," Willow griped, turning back to the stage. The first notes of "Stand By Your Man" emanated from the Karaoke machine, and she slapped her forehead. "I should've known. That was country hair, not eighties hair."  
  
"Stake me now," Spike moaned theatrically.  
  
Willow slapped his arm without looking away. "Hush! You're being rude."  
  
The short woman, with the hair that Willow thought might be as tall as she was, started singing. Very, very badly. As she squeaked past a particularly high note, Willow screamed and clapped along with half a dozen other patrons.  
  
"Stop encouraging the bint!" Spike exploded, panic in his voice. "She might sing again."  
  
"That's the point," Willow said absently. "And didn't I tell you to shut up?"  
  
"What do you mean, that's the point? She sounds like cat in heat. I'm half- tempted to tear her vocal chords out as a public service."  
  
"No," Willow heard Angel said immediately.  
  
"Damn."  
  
Willow screamed again, then cut a glance at Spike. "It takes a lot of nerve to get up there, *especially* if you can't sing. I'm applauding her chutzpah. And you're breaking the Cardinal Rule," she added, clapping some more. "Thou shalt not mock, unless thou has the...stones to sing."  
  
Willow met his eyes and waved at the Karaoke machine in an invitation. Spike set his drink down carefully and leaned forward, his eyes hard. "A cold day in Hell," he said succinctly.  
  
Willow leaned towards him as well, mimicking the look on his face right down to the sneer. "Then knock it off," she replied in kind. Then she had the strangest urge, which she decided to indulge, since this was just a dream and Spike didn't hate her. She tweaked his nose.  
  
He stopped cursing at her only when Angel slapped his hand over Spike's mouth when the waitress came. Willow sat up smugly while Spike glared balefully at her.  
  
"Children," Angel chided.  
  
Spike shoved Angel's hand from his face and lit a cigarette. Willow blinked innocently and focused on the huge plate of ribs in front of her. She chased them with a soda, pausing her feast only to applaud and whoop it up for the latest singer. Spike's sneering commentary was non-stop, and Willow tuned most of it out, only chastising him once or twice.  
  
Sometime around a not-too-bad rendition of "Sweet Home Alabama", featuring four very drunk pot-bellied men, Angel tapped Willow on the shoulder and then pointed at the door.  
  
Spike flew to his feet. "'Bout bloody time."  
  
Willow was much slower to push her chair back and stand. As much as she really hadn't wanted to go out, she had to admit that it had been a good idea.  
  
Spike was already at the van by the time Willow and Spike came through the door of the bar. Willow tossed Angel a brief glance. "Thanks."  
  
"I'm glad you had fun," Angel replied softly. Willow looked up and saw that he was staring at a point in the distance.  
  
"What's up?" Willow inquired.  
  
Angel blinked and shook his head. "Not a thing."  
  
She didn't believe that, so she searched his eyes. Either he really was just fine, or hiding it rather well. He stopped walking, and Willow came to a halt as well, raising her eyebrows curiously.  
  
"Despite what you said, I don't think you understand all the implications of." He drifted off, then started again, this time with more certainty. "What I've done with Spike and Dru, it puts me in a position of authority."  
  
Willow nodded slowly, having no idea where he was going. "I picked up on that, actually."  
  
Angel sliced his hand through the air, negating her statement. "It's more than what you've seen, Willow. They've basically accepted me as their sire again for the duration of this. Do you know what that means?" he asked steadily.  
  
Not wanting to admit that she'd eavesdropped on him and Spike, and deciding that she wanted some clarification beyond even what she'd overheard, Willow shook her head.  
  
"It means," Angel explained seriously, "that I am one hundred percent responsible for them, in every way imaginable. They've put their lives, and their emotional well-being, in my hands."  
  
"You're like a father and a guide and a leader, all rolled into one," Willow said with a nod.  
  
Angel frowned in surprise. "Well, yes, and that isn't in the Watchers' journals," he added suspiciously. Willow just shrugged and tried to keep the guilt off her face. He narrowed his eyes and continued. "To do all of that, I've had to make some internal adjustments to--"  
  
"I get that," Willow interrupted. "You've had to revert a bit. But why are you telling me this? At this particular moment?"  
  
"You were listening from the van last night," Angel said suddenly, giving her a chastising look. "That's why you were in a better mood when you came to the room."  
  
"You were being kind of loud," Willow hedged.  
  
Angel rolled his eyes. "We were not--"  
  
Spike's impatient voice, from the middle of the small parking lot, cut him off. "Hey, hurry it up!"  
  
"Come on," Angel said, taking her arm. "I'll explain it when we're on the road again."  
  
A mere hour later they had fed Dev one more time, checked out of the motel and started on their way. Angel was driving this time, and Willow was sitting in the passenger seat, still curious about what Angel had been trying to tell her earlier.  
  
"So, explain," she urged as they merged onto the highway.  
  
"Vampires are insular," Angel began. "Not just from other species, but from each other."  
  
"You guys probably more so, I would guess," Willow interrupted.  
  
Angel shot her a probing look. "Why do you say that?"  
  
"Just something I was thinking about after I heard you and Spike," she confessed. "The Watchers' journals only have two or three other documented cases of vampires sticking together like you all did. In a way that's not master/minion," she clarified. "That connection made you more powerful as a whole, which means that those who didn't just avoid you like the plague probably tried to take you down."  
  
Angel nodded slowly. "You're right. There was us, and then there was everyone else. Not only because of the circumstances you mentioned, but because that's just how vampires are. No one else exists or matters, and I mean no one."  
  
"So, what you're saying is that because you're being their sire again, you're starting to think like that again?" Angel nodded, and Willow frowned. "If that's the case, then what went on tonight? Because, if I understand this correctly, then you shouldn't have bothered. You know, with the getting me out thing."  
  
"Exactly," Angel said clearly. "If you just happened to be around during all of this, it wouldn't have mattered that you needed a break."  
  
Willow rubbed her forehead. What she wouldn't give for someone who didn't talk in circles before getting to the point. "I *do* just happen to be around," she reminded him in consternation.  
  
"No, you're here to save Dev," Angel said gravely. "That makes you *one* of us."  
  
Willow turned that over in her head for a long moment. "I'm entitled to the benefits that go along with being in your little family," she said with surprise, then bit her lip and shook her head. "Nothing really changes though. You've always protected me, Angel."  
  
"Yes, I have, but it's not just about keeping you safe. It's even more than what I do with Cordy and Wes. I have to take care of you in every way that I do the others, mentally, emotionally and physically. But it's not just me. We're talking about a power structure here, Willow," Angel went on to say. "I'm at the top and right now you--and Dev, of course--are at the bottom. Looking out for you in all ways is the job of everyone who's higher on the pyramid."  
  
A light went on in Willow's head. Drusilla's behavior suddenly made a great deal of sense. Everything Drusilla had done had stemmed from what Angel had just said and not, as Willow had assumed, from what Dev had done.  
  
"Then tonight wasn't about Spike liking me," she mused.  
  
"Sorry, but no," Angel said wryly. "We're in crisis mode, so that really doesn't count for much at the moment."  
  
"Okay, what's my responsibility to all of you, then?" Willow asked curiously. At Angel's sharp look she added, "It *is* give and take, right?"  
  
He laughed a bit self-depracatingly, Willow thought. "Yeah, yeah it is. Beyond what you're already doing for Dev, a large part is doing for us what we do for you. More importantly than that, it's letting *us* do for *you*." He shot a stern look at her. "Is this making sense?"  
  
Willow didn't answer right away because her throat was thick. Swallowing back the lump, she replied, "Yes."  
  
"Good. I've never really had to explain this to someone," he said awkwardly. "Anyway, the specific reason I'm telling you is because you're going to have it tossed at you, most of the time without anyone saying that's why they're doing something."  
  
He tossed her a rueful look, and raised one brow.  
  
"That fight with Spike?" she asked incredulously, staring at him. "That fight was about this? But he was so nasty!"  
  
Angel nodded. "The.imperative--it doesn't mean being nice and polite all the time."  
  
"But, come one!" Willow cried out. "He was really mean, Angel. I can't believe he had some kind of ulterior--"  
  
"Did he make his point?" Angel interrupted. She remained stubbornly quiet. "Because I think he did. I think that's why you dismissed me when I tried to apologize to you later, and I think that's why you were able to have fun tonight."  
  
"Still," she grumbled. "He could have been a little nice."  
  
Angel flashed her a smile. "When isn't he some level of rude, Willow?"  
  
Her lips twitched, and he noticed. His hand reached out and smoothed the back of her hair, turning her head so that she met his eyes. "Just let go a little bit," he said quietly. "Let us take care of you as much as you've been trying to take care of us."  
  
A small smile and he was facing the road again. Willow chewed her lip and leaned her head against the window next to her.  
  
Angel let the discussion falter then, and Willow stared out the window while she pondered all that she'd learned that night. As with everything else that had transpired recently, Willow found herself with as many new questions as answers.  
  
***  
  
When they stopped, Spike wasn't surprised to see Willow dig in to her books after Dev was fed. No doubt the night off had made her feel guilty. Shaking his head, he turned on the television and started flipping through the channels. Dev had already been taken care of, and Angel and Drusilla had gone out that evening.  
  
"Why don't you take advantage of the empty bed?" Spike said as he sat next to Dev and used the remote to turn the television on.  
  
"I can't," Willow responded. "I want to try something on Dev. Wanna help?"  
  
Spike turned his head slowly and stared at her. "What?"  
  
She left the desk and approached him, tired and weary, moving slower than normal, but still with that bright spark of knowledge in her eyes. "An unveiling spell," she said, standing next to him. "It should show me what made the healing spell bounce back."  
  
Spike rolled his eyes. "Do you even remember puking on yourself the last damned time you tried working mojo on her?" he asked sarcastically.  
  
Willow frowned. "Uh, no. I puked? Really?" she asked, looking a little grossed out. "Yuck, never mind. Don't want the details." She shivered with distaste, then plowed on. "This spell isn't on Dev, it's on me. It'll.allow me to see whatever magic's been worked on her."  
  
"You're not doing it."  
  
"What? Why not?" Willow exclaimed angrily.  
  
"You can wait until Angel gets back," Spike snapped.  
  
Willow glared at him and planted her hands on her hips. "But--"  
  
"Angel already explained it to you," Spike interrupted with a shrug. "You hurt yourself on my watch, and I get it taken out of my hide. If Angel's here, then it's on his shoulders."  
  
He reached out a lazy hand and shoved her backwards. She toppled onto the empty bed, looking stunned. "So just take a nap or watch the telly until he gets back."  
  
"It's not dangerous or anything," she insisted, scrambling to her knees and folding her arms across her chest.  
  
"Save the persuasive arguments for Angel," Spike advised sarcastically.  
  
"Can't I just--"  
  
"No."  
  
"What if--"  
  
"No."  
  
"You're whipped."  
  
Spike lowered the remote and turned his head slowly to stare at her. Damn, but she had a knack for saying just the right thing to infuriate him. "Shut the bloody hell up," he told her dangerously.  
  
"Fine," Willow snapped, flouncing back on the bed and pouting. "I just don't see why I need permission to do something I want to do."  
  
"Because you have to, all right?" Spike growled. "That's the way it works. So get used to it already. I swear you're the most pig-headed bint on the planet."  
  
He flipped through the channels again, unconcerned, and Willow continued sulking until Angel and Drusilla returned an hour later. Drusilla went immediately to Dev, sitting on the floor on the other side of the bed and cooing softly at their child.  
  
"We were hardly gone," Angel groaned when he got a good look at Willow and Spike.  
  
"Will thinks she can just do whatever the hell she wants," Spike bit out, glaring at her again. She squirmed and shrugged, looking down. "Doesn't care that it could mean I get the shit kicked out of me."  
  
"I didn't say that," Willow protested indignantly.  
  
"Yes you did," Angel countered, and Spike saw the surprised look she gave Angel. "If you tried to do something you knew get Spike in trouble then you said just that."  
  
Willow looked distinctly uncomfortable, but still angry. Spike understood it was rather alien to her, this type of situation, but she was being more stubborn than she needed to be. Perhaps a different tactic...  
  
Spike swung his legs off the bed and leaned towards her. She held out a few long moments, then looked at him. "Your responsibilities," Spike hissed, "include not getting one of us in trouble because of your stubbornness. Got it?"  
  
She blinked, and Spike could see that it was working. Her eyes widened dramatically and her mouth opened infinitesimally. "Oh," she said smally. "I, uh, didn't look at it that way."  
  
Spike rolled his eyes. "You can say that again."  
  
"What is it you wanted to do?" Angel asked, effectively switching tracks.  
  
"An unveiling spell," Willow said quietly. "It would allow me to see what kind of magic was done on Dev."  
  
"What does it involve?" Angel asked immediately, taking off his coat and focusing on her.  
  
Spike listened as she went into detail, glad to see that she was no longer puffed up with righteous anger. Instead, she was hesitant, docile, and she was blushing slightly--a sure sign she knew she'd been in the wrong. Good. Maybe she'd be a little more considerate of his hide.  
  
Angel eventually agreed to let Willow attempt the spell, after a great many probing questions, only if Wesley agreed it might work. Spike saw the frown that marred Willow's face when Angel called Wesley.  
  
"He doesn't doubt you," Spike told her grudgingly. "If the situation was different, he wouldn't even have questioned you." Spike shrugged and gave her a direct look. "But now you're more than just the Slayer's best pal, more than his friend. He has to be more vigilant about things. For your own good."  
  
She looked down quickly, and Spike tilted his head, considering her. Yes, it wasn't something she was used to, but why was it so hard for her to accept? Then he remembered just how little interest the families in Sunnydale showed for their kids, what with being so caught up in the "la la nothing's strange in our town" denial. As for the Slayer and friends, well, they all tended to take big risks with themselves for the greater good, and were eager to believe each other when they all downplayed the risks.  
  
That's why Willow was uncomfortable. She wasn't used to someone keeping her more in mind than the greater good.  
  
Spike reached across the divide between the beds and tapped her on the arm, garnering her attention again. "If it came down to me, Dru or Dev," Spike put forth, "Angel would have to pick all, and he couldn't allow any of us to choose the others. That's what it all comes down to at the end of the night. All of us, not just some of us."  
  
Willow frowned, "Is that why you wouldn't consider the restoration ritual?" she ventured hesitantly.  
  
"Exactly. Especially considering it's Dev," he added as an afterthought. "The soul would rip her to shreds if we sacrificed ourselves for her."  
  
Nodding slowly, Willow sighed. "I'm sorry," she offered. "There's all these other things to take into consideration and I just."  
  
"Shut up," Spike dismissed. "You found out about this, what? Twelve hours ago? No one expects you to comprehend every last detail. Just listen when we try to explain," he added facetiously.  
  
"Check," Willow said wryly. "Listen to what Spike says. Oh, that'll be easy."  
  
Spike curled his lip and reached out yet again, this time to pinch her arm. "You're too cheeky for your own good," he snipped. "Best remember to respect your elders."  
  
Her eyes picked up a bright gleam and Spike groaned, knowing she was going to display the cheek again. "Anytime I'm not sure how to respond, I'll just think.what would Spike say?" she quipped.  
  
Spike lowered his brows and curled his lip. "Bugger off," he groused, but he was amused nonetheless. Bloody hell, she was quicker to adapt than most.  
  
"Okay," Angel announced, and Spike looked his way. "Go ahead, Willow."  
  
Spike sought out Angel's eyes, and the elder vampire nodded reassuringly. Apparently he was at ease with what Willow was going to attempt. Spike looked to Drusilla, who was already watching him, a quiet smile on her full lips.  
  
Willow gathered some things from her trunk, Spike watching like a hawk. There was sand, some herbs, a bit of Latin, and then Willow nodded her head.  
  
"It's done," she told them.  
  
***  
  
It was altogether surreal, was Willow's first thought after the spell was completed. With wonder, she looked around herself. Everything was muted and highlighted at the same time and she seemed to be moving faster than everyone else. Or maybe she was as much in slow motion as they appeared to be.  
  
"--ou all right?"  
  
The voice seemed to be coming from a distance, and she looked up and saw Angel standing in front of her, looking concerned. He was doused in a black smoke that moved as he did, but from his stomach protruded a dazzling bundle of colors, all dark and angry looking, and wrapping tentacles around something white and beautiful, pressing it against Angel's stomach.  
  
"Willow?"  
  
His voice was still as far away as before, but Willow could hear the worry. She smiled reassuringly and looked around. Spike and Dru were doused in the same black fog. Which meant the black was the vampire aspect. The other stuff in Angel, that had to be the Gypsy curse.  
  
"--sure you--this?"  
  
She'd missed half of what Angel had actually said, but she knew what he meant. "I'm sure," Willow replied, her own voice sounding to ears as though it was playing back from a tape recording.  
  
Ignoring Dev for a moment more, Willow went to the bathroom, knowing Angel was following, and looked in the mirror, seeing reflected in the glass the unveiling spell. That she had expected. What was unexpected was the other thing.the root-like strands that were wrapped around her, from the crown of her head all the way down to the top of her chest, which was all she could see in the mirror.  
  
Brushing past Angel, Willow left the bathroom and went to the foot of Dev's bed, keeping her eyes downcast for the moment. She wanted the full experience of it at once. Taking a breath, Willow lifted her eyes and focused on Dev.  
  
The black was there, of course. Unlike Angel, however, Dev's soul--the beautiful white glow--wasn't being clutched to her by something unnatural. Instead, it was dispersed amid the fog, the two intertwining all around her form. Interesting. Willow let her gaze go a bit unfocused, trying to see anything that was outside of Dev, around even the black and white of her being.  
  
It took a few moments, but then it came into focus. A whorl of red that surrounded Dev like a bubble, swirling around. Willow walked around the bed, studying it from every angle. It seemed battered and worn in some areas, the black/white of Dev bleeding through prominently in some areas. That was why it was shifting; it was moving the vulnerable spots constantly so that they couldn't be pinned down.  
  
Willow frowned. There were too many threadbare areas. Her one assault shouldn't have damaged it so much, and in so many different areas. In fact, as it moved again, Willow could see exactly where she'd "punched" it, as the spot was marked by the same roots that had covered her reflection. So then what had caused the rest of the damage? Was Dev actually attacking it from the inside?  
  
Narrowing her eyes, Willow thought about it. If Dev had similar powers to Drusilla, and had been able to actually take control of Willow herself, who was to say that she didn't have the ability to launch an attack on what was blocking her.  
  
Shifting her gaze again, Willow sought out the black/white that was Dev, then looked past it this time, seeing what was inherent in Dev beyond the vampire with a soul thing. When it appeared, Willow frowned yet again. It didn't make sense. She could suddenly see Dev's magic on her, and it was the same red that was surrounding her.  
  
Willow pulled her sight back and studied the red bubble, noticing now that the worn patches were in shades of dark purple, and that they were reaching outwards for something. Trying to find what? More of itself? But why were they stopping just several feet away from Dev rather than extending as far out as they wanted?  
  
Sucking in a deep breath, Willow had a thought. She spun on her heel and shoved past the vampires, going back to the mirror in the bathroom. In the mirror, she stared at the roots that were threaded through the pale green of the unveiling spell. She grabbed a surprised Angel and stared at the soul magic. There, along the tentacles. Roots.  
  
Back to Dev's side, where Willow considered the dark purple patches, and saw how they were being pulled on by the red.  
  
A small bit of Willow's magic was entwined with the unveiling spell and the restoration spell because she'd performed them, but what if she'd pushed outwards in desperation, thrust her magic protectively around her? Wouldn't it then be just the roots and nothing else? With that, it all fell into place.  
  
"Oh my God," Willow breathed.  
  
*** 


	8. Part 8

When Angel received no response from Willow after calling out to her four times, he crossed the room to her spell book and recited the incantation Willow had told him would break the spell on her. She remained at the bed, however, staring at Dev with wide unblinking eyes.  
  
"Willow!" Angel shouted, grabbing her arm and spinning her around. She looked up at him without recognition. "Damn it, talk to me!"  
  
"I didn't know," she whispered. Then her head snapped up and she pushed out of his arms. "You didn't tell me!"  
  
Drusilla rushed to Willow's side, tucking a lock of red hair behind Willow's ear and then rubbing her shoulders soothingly.  
  
"Tell you what?" Spike asked, and Angel saw his eyes narrow. "What didn't we tell you?"  
  
"That she had her own magic!" Willow shouted angrily. "That it wasn't just psychic gifts. None of you said anything."  
  
Feeling exhausted all of a sudden, and once again annoyed at the childe of his who didn't like to share, Angel vowed that as soon as Dev was on her feet, they were going to have a little chat.  
  
Angel met Spike's eyes and nodded. Spike stalked over to Willow and grabbed her chin, raising her face so that she was looking at him. "What happened?" he demanded.  
  
"It's Dev," Willow choked. "That's why she's not healing right, and that's how they're following us."  
  
"Willow," Spike said sharply. "Take it from the beginning."  
  
Nodding, Willow took a deep breath and stepped back from Spike. Angel saw Spike finally relent and release her face, allowing her to sink onto the empty bed. Drusilla moved with her, settling at her side and laying her head on Willow's shoulder.  
  
"She must have known they had magic," Willow said quietly. "So when she passed out her subconscious kicked in and she instinctively set up a shield around herself."  
  
"That's why the healing spell backfired," Angel mused. "But why wouldn't she let that through?"  
  
"She's blocking *everything*," Willow said impatiently. "She doesn't have the capacity to determine if what's coming at her is good or bad because she's unconscious."  
  
"What the hell did you mean, that's why she's not healing right?" Spike bit out.  
  
Willow gestured wildly with her hands. "It's the same reason why people get weird dreams if they eat before sleeping."  
  
"It's been a long time since any of us have been human," Angel reminded her. "What do you mean?"  
  
"Oh, right. Um, when you're sleeping, your body is rejuvenating itself, okay?" she explained. "If you eat right before you go to bed, then your body can't focus as much on resting because it's got to digest the food. Same reason you should wait a half an hour after eating before you swim."  
  
"So," Spike said thoughtfully, "she's using her energy to protect herself, instead of to heal? And it's taking a toll on her?"  
  
Willow nodded. "Exactly."  
  
"They're following her energy, aren't they?" Angel guessed flatly.  
  
"They're trying," she corrected. "She's not making it easy. Locator spells would just rebound off of her, like my healing spell. So I think what they tried to do was.latch onto her. But when they lock onto her shield, she cuts them off. What's left behind tries to 'report' back to the source, but with the way we're constantly moving, it gets confused."  
  
"So when we were staying put, those parts had enough time to regroup and get back to the source," Angel deducted, and she nodded. Spike cursed roundly and ended with a familiar snort of disgust.  
  
Angel gazed closely at Willow, saw the concentration written between her brows that meant she was on to something, and asked, "How do we make her stop?"  
  
"We can't, not the way you mean," Willow said slowly. "But, I think this is what Drusilla's vision was talking about. Right now, if you think about it, Dev is running as much as we are. She's running from what they're throwing at her."  
  
Her head swiveled to look at Dev again and she seemed to lean a little more on Drusilla. Angel never thought he'd see Willow--avenger of good--taking comfort from Dru. Then again, it was just as unbelievable as everything else, so maybe it was just the norm now.  
  
"Drusilla's vision had Dev hiding under the tree," Willow continued, almost talking to herself. "They couldn't find her there and she felt safe enough to lower her guard."  
  
She flew to her feet and ran to her trunk. "I think there's something." she mumbled, rummaging through it.  
  
Angel shook his head, smiling despite the situation at the sheer perseverance of the red head. She found a book and impatiently flipped the pages, glancing at them only briefly before moving on. Then her eyes lit up and she grinned excitedly.  
  
"Okay, stay with me," she babbled. "If I can construct a shield around Dev, under her own shield, she'll sense that she can get rid of hers and when that happens, the pieces of the baddies will dissipate along with it, and I'll be effectively cutting off Dev's signal, so they won't have anything to lock onto and we can actually settle down in one place until she's healed, which will be faster than we've thought because your blood will do what it's supposed to then."  
  
She was on her feet again, bouncing on her heels with renewed energy. Angel had the thought that she was just as difficult to understand as Drusilla sometimes. He tossed a confused glance at Spike, who grinned and mouthed what looked suspiciously like, "Eyes only for the Slayer."  
  
"Long story short," Spike said to Willow. "You're saying you can shield Dev and convince her to lower hers?" Willow nodded emphatically. "Then we won't be traceable?" Another nod. "She'll heal like she should?" An exasperated nod this time. "And what if they start locking onto you?"  
  
Willow stilled, frowning. "I think," she said with confusion, "that if I create my shield under Dev's, I'm under their radar. They shouldn't be able to tell that I've done it. As far as they'll know, she'll simply have disappeared." She snapped her fingers. "Poof. Gone."  
  
"Call the Demon Bumbler," Spike said to Angel.  
  
"We should hit the road again," Willow said suddenly. Angel frowned, and she explained, "I want to do the shield right as we stop, so that there's no chance the.fragments can send anything back. You can call Wesley while you drive," she said decisively, putting the spell book on top of the trunk and starting to gather her things.  
  
"I'll study the ritual for the spell and make sure I have everything I'll need while you talk to him." She stopped and looked at the rest of them, who hadn't moved. "Well, what are you waiting for? We've got to get moving."  
  
Spike laughed, and moved to Willow, ruffling her hair. "Right you are," he chuckled, taking the trunk from her and hefting it onto his shoulder. "Hurry it up, Angel," he added as he strode out of the room.  
  
Willow turned to Angel, her face hopeful. "It fits, Angel," she said confidently. "It fits perfectly."  
  
Angel nodded slowly and she took that as his ascent and bounded out of the room with her suitcase. Yes, it fit, but he remembered something she apparently was choosing to forget. The tree was going to die.  
  
Drusilla flittered her hands, and Angel watched her waft his way. "Daddy," she lilted, "you mustn't worry so. Our precious is stronger than you know, and she'll come from the death even stronger."  
  
Angel grabbed her hand from its position on his chest, and stared down at her with flinty eyes. "Will she be turned?" he ground out.  
  
Tilting her head to the side, Drusilla shook her head a bit sadly. "No, though I'd like it if she were. I can see the potential in her, so fierce and deviant." She focused on him again when he tightened his hold on her hand. Drusilla went on, frowning at something he couldn't see, "It will be all right in the end."  
  
He put a finger under her chin and lifted it. "Are you sure?" he asked rawly.  
  
"Surest, my Angel," Drusilla assured him, running her other hand along the side of his neck and raking her nails gently across his skin. Angel's eyes closed and he leaned into the touch. "Her path is not what she wishes it were," Drusilla whispered. "But no one's is. It will be bloody and painful, and she'll hate it but think that's all there is, won't see the forks that appear unless."  
  
"Unless what, Dru?" Angel snapped.  
  
Her dark eyes touched his solemnly. "I've already told you that I shan't tell until she realizes," she chided him.  
  
Angel frowned, then remembered Drusilla's cryptic words the night Willow had seen Dev for the first time. "It's Dev's only shot, the shield," Angel said tightly. "But if it means Willow will pay too great a price--"  
  
"You can do nothing about that," Drusilla interrupted harshly, pulling away and glaring at him. "It's her path, and she'll walk it now or later. You can do many things, darling Angel, but no one can walk someone else's path." She stamped her foot and curled her lip. "And I won't let you try."  
  
"Haven't you two done anything yet?"  
  
Angel looked away from Dru and saw Spike in the doorway, a grin on his face. Apparently he was also forgetting the rest of Dru's vision.  
  
"I'll get Dev out there," Angel said, looking around and seeing that she was all that was left. "Have Willow check us out."  
  
"Already did," Spike told him. "She's impatiently waiting in the van for us. Impatiently being--" He broke off and stared at Angel. "What is it?"  
  
Spike picked the worst times to be perceptive, Angel decided, but then again, it was better that this get out in the open. They all had the same duty to Willow. "The tree is going to die," Angel said clearly, "and everyone seems to want to forget that or just go along merrily despite that."  
  
A tight look grabbed hold of Spike's features and he looked away. Angel saw his jaw muscle dancing on his cheek. "Then I've got Drusilla rambling nonsense about it being Willow's path to walk, and how it's some kind of internal death--as though that makes a difference."  
  
He moved so that he could glare at both of them at the same time. "Listen closely," he bit out. "Even if this 'death' is an inevitable thing that Willow has to go through, that doesn't mean we wash our hands of it, leave her to deal on her own. That doesn't mean we ignore it, either."  
  
"Well what do you expect us to bloody do?" Spike exploded. "Say, 'oh, hey, Willow, that's a gosh darn great idea you've come up with, too bad it's going to lead to your kind-of death, but don't think about that'?" He stalked forward and poked Angel in the chest with one finger. "Drusilla's told me some of it, too," he growled. "And I like the sound of it even less than you do."  
  
Angel narrowed his eyes, remembering his thoughts on Spike and Willow.  
  
"But we've got a shitload to deal with before then, Willow most of all," he continued angrily. "Besides this, she's got Dev's database, and I think I saw her messing with financial records, too. You want this in the forefront of her mind, too? You want her to break?"  
  
"Stop." It was Willow, coming through the door with a somber look on her face.  
  
"How much did you hear?" Angel asked warily.  
  
She shut the door behind her and faced them calmly. "Everything from you complaining about Dru rambling on about nonsense."  
  
"Great, nice going," Spike huffed at Angel.  
  
"I said stop," Willow said firmly. "I think that we need to take a small step back from the 'family way of thinking'."  
  
"What are you babbling about?" Spike snapped.  
  
"We're forgetting why we're here," Willow said simply. "The basis for your arrangement was you three getting along while you helped Dev. Then you kept taking it a little further, each of you for your own reasons, and the focus became the family, and I got sucked in, too."  
  
She shook her head. "It's got to be toned down," she informed them harshly, cutting a hand through the air. "We've got a lot of hurdles to overcome before this ends, and if we continue keeping our attention on ourselves and each other, Dev's going to pay the price." With one last look, she opened the door again. "I'll be in the van. Take your time."  
  
Angel felt like he'd been punched in the gut. He stared at the closed door and frowned.  
  
"Is she right?" he wondered out loud, looking at Spike and Dru.  
  
Spike wandered over to Dev's bedside and stared down at her. "Yeah, she is," he said eventually, his voice deep and disgusted. "We've been carting Dev around like fucking luggage." He shrugged and turned weary eyes on Angel. "We put it all on Willow's shoulders," he said bluntly, "so that we could indulge ourselves, and we let Dev slip from our minds."  
  
Tears were streaming down Drusilla's face. "My Devil, I didn't mean it," she gasped.  
  
"She knows, Drusilla," Angel soothed, moving to her and wrapping his arms around her shoulders. "She understands you didn't mean it."  
  
Looking down at Dev's still form, Angel knew he was right. As small amount of time as she had had with the three of them, she understand the structure and the individuals involved. Knew their flaws as well as their strengths, and accepted both without judgment.  
  
"What do we bleedin' do now?" Spike barked.  
  
"Exactly what Willow said," Angel responded without hesitation. "We remember why we're here."  
  
***  
  
It was a solemn group of vampires who made their way to the van. Willow watched them, noting the tears on Drusilla's cheeks, the tick at Spike's jaw, and the brooding way in which Angel's brows were lowered. Dev, resting sedately in Spike's arms, was the same as she'd been.  
  
As much as she'd hated to bring reality crashing down on their shoulders, they'd all needed it, including herself. They'd all grasped eagerly onto the idea that this wasn't real, but it was. The curtain of purple hair dangling across Spike's arm was proof of that. Willow flinched, thinking about how she'd relegated Dev to the background over the past few days.  
  
She couldn't really pinpoint how she'd come to understand what they were doing, but something had crashed inside of her when she heard Spike and Angel talking about her for what felt like the tenth time in three days, and mentioning Dev only in passing. Her mind had shoved a memory at her, Dev hovering in the air, with that cross mark at the juncture of her thighs, and Willow had wanted to slap herself silly. She had made a promise to Dev, and that was the reality amidst the fantasy.  
  
Willow moved to the back of the van and opened the doors. Spike crawled in and set Dev down, nodding at the others once she was situated. Angel gently urged Drusilla inside, then followed.  
  
"Call Wesley," Willow said to him. "I'll drive for.two hours, then cast the shield if Wesley doesn't come up with a compelling reason not to."  
  
Angel nodded, not saying anything, and Willow waited a long moment before she nodded as well and closed the van doors. It was the first time she'd been driving at night without one of them up front with her, and she had the thought that maybe they were all staying with Dev as some kind of apology to her.  
  
Willow got behind the wheel and started the engine. She could understand the need, but hoped that they didn't beat themselves up over it for very long. It was just something that had happened without anyone realizing it, and in those situations one could only acknowledge the mistake and correct it.  
  
Which was why Willow was going to construct the shield unless Wesley predicted her or Dev's immediate death from it. No matter what Angel had to say on the subject. Besides losing sight of their purpose they were also guilty of one other transgression: they'd been playing it safe from the beginning. None of them played it safe in their day-to-day lives, it was a strength all of them shared, and it was time they remembered that.  
  
She only hoped Angel would understand that as well.  
  
***  
  
The vampires in the back didn't much talk to one another right away. Angel called the Demon Blunderer and asked him to check into what Willow wanted to do and call back. But it wasn't silence that took over then. Instead of each of them being in their own head with their own thoughts, they were focused on Dev. Looking at her. Touching her. Whispering in her ear. Just bloody being with her, rather than treating her like some great bit of furniture that was back there with them.  
  
Though Drusilla had done that less than him or Angel, she apparently felt that she was just as guilty, because she'd been cooing non-stop at their childe. Spike thought about Los Angeles, how they had sat *with* Dev, not just near her. They'd read to her, talked to her, spent time with her so that she wasn't so horribly alone in this.  
  
It would have been easy to explain it away with the traveling, to say that they had been bouncing around so much that there wasn't time for all of that. But they had made time for other things, hadn't they? And of them all, it had been Willow who had seen. Willow, who didn't even know Dev, didn't even know the rest of them either.  
  
"You have permission to kick my arse, Dev," Spike said loudly. "Hell, I'll even hold the others down for you."  
  
"Don't listen to him," Angel said to Dev. "We won't need to be held down. Will we, Drusilla?"  
  
"I'd bare my neck to make it better," Drusilla sniffed, and Spike rolled his eyes.  
  
"Drusilla's a mess over there," he confided to Dev. "She doesn't realize that you're probably thinking only one thing in that head of yours."  
  
"It's about time," Angel supplied, chuckling along with Spike. "Stop crying, Dru. She's not mad at us, and she's not going to kick our asses, either. She's just glad we came to our senses."  
  
Drusilla's eyes moved from Angel to Spike. "Do you think so?"  
  
"We know so, princess," Spike assured her, grinning at Dev.  
  
"This is how we're going forward," Angel said suddenly, and Spike looked at him curiously. "Like we are right now. With the rest in the background."  
  
"Or maybe not even in the picture," Spike said carefully, watching Angel's face closely.  
  
"Maybe not even that," Angel acknowledged.  
  
The idea of foregoing the rest of it--those things that he'd just days ago thought he absolutely had to have--didn't upset Spike. If it had been for any other reason, it might have. But letting go of the other stuff felt just as right as taking it up had.  
  
"Yes, I like that," Drusilla said, sounding happy and pleased. "It'll be just like when our Devil first came to us."  
  
Spike's eyes widened. It was *exactly* like when they'd been raising Dev, when they'd spent long months teaching her how to walk and speak and hunt and read and laugh and a thousand other things the prophesy hadn't instilled in her when it had made her into a full grown woman in two nights.  
  
That time, before Dev had gone out on her own, it had been just like this moment: easy and comfortable and affable, the intensity of everything else taking a nap in the proverbial backseat. Spike met Angel's eyes and knew his own probably held the same hint of surprise that Angel's did.  
  
***  
  
When Willow stopped the van and opened the doors, Angel saw right away that she was braced for an argument. No doubt she expected him to refuse to let her do the shield.  
  
"Wesley said it sounds like a solid idea," Angel said simply, and Willow frowned deeply. "But I can argue if you want. Let you feel like you badgered me into it," he offered.  
  
Her eyes cleared and she relaxed. "Not necessary," she drawled. "I just didn't expect you to come over to my side this easily."  
  
"Bah," Spike proclaimed. "We're not bloody morons, you know."  
  
"No, not all of you," she quipped, dancing back out of reach of his pinching fingers.  
  
Then she motioned them to get out of the van. They were at a scenic rest stop, which was deserted at the late hour. Abandoned picnic tables sat forlornly in the dark, and the few lights cast shadows all round them.  
  
"I'll need to have better access to her," Willow said, chewing her lip and studying the interior of the van.  
  
"No problem," Angel said easily. "We'll lay her on one of the tables out here."  
  
She nodded her agreement and then turned to Spike. "I need you to act as my ground."  
  
"Me? Why?"  
  
"Because you don't have your own magic." She nodded her head at Drusilla. "And you don't carry someone else's on you." She motioned at Angel.  
  
Angel carried Dev out of the van and Willow hurried after him, spreading the plastic over the picnic table so that he could set Dev down. Drusilla came to Angel and fit herself under one of his arms, wrapping her own around his waist.  
  
"All right," Willow said, facing them all confidently. "I'm going to the unveiling spell first, so that I can make sure I set the shield up where I need to. Then I'll start on the shield itself. It's not a spell, so there won't be any casting. It's more like.directing my own energy, and I don't need to *do* anything to do that."  
  
They all nodded their understanding and then Willow cast the unveiling spell. She stepped out of the circle, moving in the slow and lazy way she'd displayed the first time, and then sat at the picnic table. "Spike, sit across from me."  
  
Looking wary, Spike did as she said, then raised a brow expectantly. In response, Willow held her hands out over Dev, and motioned that Spike take her hands. He did, looking even more unsure about what was happening, but he didn't balk. Angel nodded his approval and encouragement at the blonde, who just rolled his eyes.  
  
"What am I supposed to do besides play pat-a-cake?" Spike drawled sardonically.  
  
"Please don't talk so much," Willow said, frowning at him. "Everything's kind of far away and slow, and I can't hear you right."  
  
Spike snorted and then shrugged in a helpless gesture, raising both of his brows questioningly.  
  
Willow stared, seemingly with great difficulty, at him and then nodded. "I'm going to wrap Dev in my own energy," she said by way of a response. "I may have to divert some of my magic into you to keep it from going all over the place." Spike's eyes widened and he pulled his hands back.  
  
"It's just temporary," she assured him. "I promise."  
  
"Bloody hell, Dev, I think we're even now," he groused and gave Willow his hands again.  
  
"You don't have to do anything in particular," Willow continued. "Just don't let go of my hands no matter what. You ready?"  
  
Spike's eyes flickered in Angel's direction again, and Angel nodded once again. "She knows what she's doing," he reminded Spike.  
  
"Go on," Spike said to Willow, then repeated it much slower when she didn't respond.  
  
"Okay, here we go."  
  
At first, there wasn't anything to really see about it all. A lot of frowning from Willow as she moved her eyes over Dev, then she closed her eyes and began breathing deeply. A small wind picked up around her, but nothing all that intense. Angel was beginning to think nothing remarkable would be evident to him when Spike suddenly arched his back and screamed.  
  
"Fucking hell! You didn't say it would bloody burn my insides!"  
  
If Willow actually heard him, she gave no sign of it. A sweat broke out on her brow and then her eyes began to glow. Angel saw that her nails had drawn Spike's blood. Spike screamed again and this time Willow screamed with him, though she was staring at Dev, like she was screaming her power at the vampire. There was a ripple in the air and Spike fell backwards, Willow's hands preventing him from tumbling to the ground.  
  
"Oh, it's lovely," Drusilla enthused, and Angel looked down to find her wide eyes filled with excitement as she watched Spike and Willow.  
  
The air rippled again, followed by a small pop, and this time Spike and Willow were keeping each other from falling. "Wow," Willow croaked, blinking hugely. "That was."  
  
"Bloody painful," Spike hissed, his head was pressed against the wood surface of the picnic table.  
  
"Are you okay?" Angel asked, not approaching them. There was a vibration in the air between Spike, Dev and Willow that made him cautious of touching any of them.  
  
"Do it again!" Drusilla demanded, and Spike snarled in response.  
  
Angel heard Willow mutter the incantation to end the unveiling spell, and she shook herself, looking around. "I fell kind of buzzed," she said abruptly, giggling slightly.  
  
And she looked it, Angel noted critically. Her eyes were sparkling and her cheeks were flushed.  
  
Across the table, Spike groaned. "I feel like the day after."  
  
"Hair of the dog what bit ya?" Willow offered cheerfully, tugging on his hands, which Spike immediately yanked away.  
  
Angel caught him before he landed, and held him in a sitting position. "Did it work?" he asked Willow hopefully.  
  
"Yep," she assured him, smiling as Drusilla came to sit next to her.  
  
"Was it supposed to be so--"  
  
"Painful?" Spike supplied miserably.  
  
"--violent?" Angel finished over him.  
  
Willow sobered up a bit and shook her head. "No."  
  
"What was the screaming all about?" Angel asked.  
  
"And the pain?" Spike griped. "You didn't say anything about pain, damn it."  
  
She answered Spike first. "Well, you didn't ask--I didn't know there would be pain," she amended quickly when he growled again. "Dev's got some.strong magic in her, and she felt really threatened when mine came calling."  
  
Angel nodded. "She resisted."  
  
"In a big way," Willow said emphatically. "I had to draw on everything I had stored in Spike, and then barrage her with it. She couldn't fight me off and keep her own shield in place at the same time."  
  
"The pain, damn it," Spike snarled. "What was with the bloody pain?"  
  
"I think," Willow answered thoughtfully, "that it hurt because of the way I had to pull it out of you all at once. It didn't seem to hurt you when I filtered it into you a little at a time."  
  
"So what I'm hearing," Spike said dangerously, and Angel felt him tense, "is that you didn't even need me here since you had to use all of it anyway?"  
  
"Not at all," Willow denied earnestly, shaking her head. "I literally threw everything I had in the way of magic at her, Spike. If you hadn't been grounding me, I wouldn't have stopped at the magic."  
  
"Precious would have been gone," Drusilla told them with a sly grin. "Just blank eyes and quiet head; nothing but flesh and bone, waiting for someone to move in."  
  
Spike lifted his head, and Angel watched him stare at Drusilla for a long moment. "Still think it hurt more than it was worth," he said snidely, but there was less bite behind the words than there could have been, and even Willow noticed if her small smile was anything to go by.  
  
"What do we do now, then?" Spike asked as he sat up, wincing as he did so.  
  
"Drive like usual," Angel said. "I want to put some distance between us and here. When we stop.we'll really stop. We'll take it from there, depending on if we get a call from Cordy."  
  
"Sounds like a plan," Willow agreed, reaching out to touch Dev's hair. "Hear that? You might be able to go a day without getting hauled around like a sack of potatoes."  
  
***  
  
Hours later, at sunset the following day, they did indeed stop. Willow was actually really grateful for that. When Angel had woken her up just before dawn, she'd realized that her buzz had ebbed away, only to leave her feeling exactly how Spike must have the previous night: seriously hung over.  
  
Spike had had no sympathy whatsoever, and had spent most of the day pounding on the divider between the front and back of the van, causing Willow to alternately see stars or hang her head out of the window in case she threw up. On unsteady legs, Willow alighted from the van and checked them in at the latest motel. This one did not have a data port, and she was glad for an excuse not to work on the database. Just the thought of trying to focus on her laptop screen had her stomach rolling.  
  
Coming back out of the small office, Willow put her hand to her mouth when she considered driving the van around the building to their room. She'd walk, she decided, and knocked on the back doors. Spike opened them and grinned when he got a look at her.  
  
"Little hair of the dog what bit ya?" he asked her loudly, and she winced.  
  
"One of you has to drive around the back," Willow said around her hand. "I'll meet you there. Room 120. Keys are in the ignition."  
  
She fled before he could try to make her feel worse, and was followed by his bark of laughter. She took refuge in the bathroom, hanging for a long time over the toilet because her stomach was really not happy, but she didn't actually throw up.  
  
Peeling her clothes from her clammy skin, Willow turned the shower on and stepped inside the stall. The water took forever to warm up but when it finally did she sank to the floor and let the spray of water fall over her. She coaxed handfuls of it into her mouth and it did only a little to alleviate the coating of cotton on her tongue. God, she felt *awful*.  
  
The door opened, and Willow sat up nervously. "A little privacy, please!" she squeaked.  
  
The shower curtain moved, revealing Drusilla, who tsked at her. Willow pulled her knees to her chest and did her best to preserve her modesty, knowing that she had to be eight shades of red.  
  
"Uh, Dru, could you maybe get out?" Willow asked desperately, watching the vampire with wide eyes.  
  
"Quiet, precious," Drusilla sang, delicately sitting on her legs and reaching out to turn off the water. "Now, let me see." Her eyes drifted from Willow's head to her feet. "Poor critter. Lean over."  
  
"Dru, I really think I'd rather have some clothes on, so could you--"  
  
"So stubborn," Drusilla interrupted, shaking her head. "Just relax and let me see where it hurts."  
  
"Where it hurts?" Willow repeated, staring at her. "What do you--"  
  
The familiar sensation of falling for miles, and no surprise this time when she landed right where she was. Experimentally, Willow tasted her tongue. No cotton. She moved her head, but there was no pain. Best of all, though, the churning was gone from her stomach.  
  
"Thank you!" Willow said happily.  
  
Drusilla laughed as she rose to her feet. "You're welcome. There are clothes for you," she added, gesturing vaguely behind her.  
  
Willow peered around the vampire and saw a stack of fresh clothing on the sink. Angel, probably. No doubt Spike hadn't been in any hurry for her to feel better. "Again, thanks. Now, could I maybe, uh, be alone for my shower? I'm getting kind of cold."  
  
Another wide smile and Drusilla was gone. Willow made short work of her shower and quickly dressed. Strangely, Spike didn't seem to be upset by the fact that she was no longer feeling like crap. In fact, he was grinning and hugging Drusilla to his chest when Willow emerged from the bathroom.  
  
Utterly confused, Willow sought out Angel. He was sitting next to Dev, feeding her from the copper bowl. They hadn't waited for her. Curious, Willow moved forward, then sucked in a breath.  
  
"Her back. It's--"  
  
"Better," Angel finished, looking pleased.  
  
Better was an understatement. It had seemed like once that first layer of skin had returned, nothing else had happened. Now, though, the skin had thickened noticeably. Willow only saw indistinct shadows where once there'd been vertebrae.  
  
"You were right," Angel continued. "She's healing like she should be now." He raised his head and when Willow saw the emotion in them, she felt a lump rise in her throat. "Thank you."  
  
"You're welcome," Willow said thickly.  
  
Willow spent the rest of the night sitting cross-legged on the other bed, listening to Drusilla weave horrific tales for Dev, which were spun from the loveliest--if not the most disturbing--imagery Willow had ever experienced. Grotesque as the stories themselves were, it was intriguing to hear the details that Drusilla went into, to be amazed by her descriptive technique. And it actually made Willow laugh to see Drusilla, lost in the story-telling, lean over Dev's prone form and mime the actions of the characters in the story.  
  
The men talked amongst themselves, Spike splayed on the bed next to Willow, and Angel sprawled in the threadbare armchair in the corner. Every so often they would fall silent and listen to Drusilla before drifting back to their own conversation. Willow didn't take note of anything they spoke of, too entranced by Drusilla to pay attention.  
  
It was actually a surprise when Angel stood up and quietly told them all that they'd been in the motel room for over five hours. "Are you sure?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
The stories ended then, as did the conversation. They four of them began the discomforting task of waiting, something none of them did really well. Spike's fingers began drumming mutedly on his jean-clad thigh, and Willow turned her head. He was lying on his back, one hand under his head, legs crossed at the ankles, eyes planted on the ceiling, and annoyance and impatience drawn on his features.  
  
Her eyes drifted to his hand again, and she remembered the last time she'd stared at that same hand doing the same thing. It stopped moving and she looked at Spike's face again. He was watching her with a frown, but then his gaze dropped to his hand before it met hers once again. A small smile pulled at his lips, and Willow thought it might have been the first genuine one he'd given her.  
  
Movement from the corner of her eye. He'd turned his hand palm-side-up and was holding it out to her. Willow considered that hand, considered what he'd heard him admit to Angel. Strange as it was, she'd never thought about whether or not she liked him. But staring at the hand, remembering her own thoughts and actions after Giles had gone up to bed that far away night, she realized that she did, and had for a while.  
  
Smiling shyly, she put her hand in his. He tugged on it, pulling her down so that she was forced to abandon her sitting position. When she too was lying on her back, he brought their hands down to rest on the bed in between them. The only contact was their joined hands, so different from the handholding they'd done the previous night for the shield, and Willow found that the waiting was easier.  
  
An hour later, they were all forced to admit that waiting in tense silence was another thing none of them could do.  
  
"Somebody bloody say something before I lose my damned mind," Spike's voice exploded into the silence.  
  
Willow burst out laughing, as did Angel. Spike's low chuckled joined them a moment later, and it wasn't long before Drusilla also chimed in, though Willow thought she probably had no idea why she was laughing. Didn't really matter.  
  
"Oh, god, it hurts" Willow gasped, tears of laughter in her eyes as she clutched her ribs with her free hand.  
  
"So what the hell should we do, then?" Spike asked as they finally settled down a minute later. He squeezed Willow's hand and she grinned up at him, wiping the last of her hilarity away.  
  
"I propose we go back to what we were doing," she announced. "Personally, I really want to know if the Nasty Blond Bitch is going to get what she deserves from the Dark Haired Princess."  
  
"You do know that's about your precious Slayer, don't you?" Spike smirked.  
  
Willow widened her eyes dramatically and tried to look vapid. "Gee, really? 'Cause I, like, had no idea!" Spike narrowed his eyes and she smiled. "Sound like anyone you know?" she asked innocently, and blinked a couple of times.  
  
"Hey, now!" Spike griped sullenly. "No need to bring up Harm."  
  
"Knock it off, you two," Angel said indulgently. "Drusilla, finish your story."  
  
Willow burrowed into the bed, and rolled her head to the side as Dru began weaving her tale again. Despite being on edge about the time, Willow eventually drifted off to Drusilla's dulcet tones, only to come awake suddenly and find herself half-laying on Spike's chest.  
  
She bolted into a sitting position and blinked down at him. "Sorry," she husked, but he only shrugged. "How long?"  
  
Spike gestured behind her, and Willow turned and saw the bit of daylight that shone at the edge of the curtains. Angel was on the other bed, him and Drusilla on either side of Dev, and he smiled at her.  
  
"It's just past dawn," he told her quietly. Which made sense, as Willow had gotten used to waking at dawn in order to take over driving. "We've been here ten hours, and there's been no word from Cordy."  
  
Willow closed her eyes in relief. They were safe. They could stop running across the country in the van, and she could actually get a decent night's sleep.  
  
"We've been talking about our next move," Angel said, drawing her attention.  
  
"What did you come up with?" Willow asked curiously, leaning against the headboard and yawning.  
  
"Not a damn thing yet," Spike said succinctly.  
  
"A house would be our best bet," Angel explained. "We'd have the room and the privacy that we need, but there's the whole getting one we can use." He shrugged.  
  
"Hm," Willow murmured, chewing her lip. "I suppose now is as good a time as any to let you know I took care of the money situation."  
  
Angel stared at her silently. Spike propped himself on his elbow and raised a brow at him. "I told you--financial records," he said smugly.  
  
"What did you do?" Angel asked her quietly.  
  
Willow shrugged and yawned again. "Nothing much. Just changed the name on an account and set it up so that I can access with my ATM card, which I kind of tweaked so that it actually isn't connected to my savings account anymore."  
  
"So, you stole money and then messed around with banking records?"  
  
She sneaked a look at Angel, but couldn't tell if he was angry. "It was Mayor Wilkins' money," she offered helpfully, and Angel's jaw dropped. "Apparently, he was a little too cocky about the whole Ascension thing and didn't draw up a will. It's been sitting around all this time."  
  
"How much?" Spike asked gleefully, and she flashed him a smile.  
  
"Enough so that we can rent a house until Dev is on her feet again," Willow said equivocally. "How long do you think that will be? Now that she's coming along the way she should?"  
  
"Few weeks," Spike supplied.  
  
Willow nodded, then blushed when her stomach gurgled. "Hungry," she explained shyly when Angel and Spike looked at her with amusement. "I don't suppose you feel confident enough in our safety to let me go get some food?"  
  
Her hopes were dashed by Spike's quick, "No."  
  
"But I got you some things from the vending machine," Angel added, gesturing to the desk. Willow saw a few bags of chips, a candy bar, an apple pie, two cans of soda and a bottle of water.  
  
"Mm," she moaned, slipping off the bed and making a bee-line for the food. "A feast fit for the gods."  
  
"Willow, start calling around for some furnished houses once things open," Angel said thoughtfully. "We'll need three bedrooms, a basement and a security system. Will the lease be in your name?" Willow swallowed a mouthful of Baked Lays and nodded. "Good, that means you'll have invite rights. Thick curtains, too," he added, "but we can get those on our own if we need them."  
  
"I have a question," Spike announced, sitting up in the bed. Angel and Willow looked at him expectantly. "Where the fuck are we?"  
  
"Illinois," she replied around some apple pie. "An hour or two from Chicago, more specifically. We should be able to find something in the 'burbs, unless you think the city is better?"  
  
"The 'burbs," Spike said.  
  
"Something with some land, maybe," Angel mused, and Willow raised a brow. "If you can. I'd rather we didn't have to worry about neighbors."  
  
Willow took some paper and a pen from her laptop case and settled at the desk, still munching away. In the middle drawer was a local phone book, and she flipped through the pages for real estate agents and began writing down names and numbers.  
  
She glanced at her watch; it was just past seven in the morning, which meant there was a good two hours before any of these places would be open for business.  
  
"Cartoons?" Spike asked, tilting his head and reaching for the remote.  
  
*** 


	9. Part 9

They looked at three houses that night, and settled on one in Palatine, which was just outside of Chicago proper. It was a charming two-story brick house and it fit their parameters in every way. It was fully furnished, had a nifty alarm system, and not only did it have a basement, but it was a finished basement. It was also available for immediately occupancy, which was probably more the deciding factor in choosing it.  
  
All in all, the move into the house went rather smoothly. At least, in Angel's opinion. Willow had signed the lease, then got all the utilities turned on during the day. Once the sun had set, Spike had gone with her to get provisions. Unable to find curtains thick enough to keep the sun adequately out, she'd finally had to go to a fabric store and buy large swaths of a thick, dark green velvet material to hang over the windows.  
  
Willow probably had a different opinion of the move, considering Spike's behavior during it all. True to form, he'd taken the opportunity to revert to type. She'd looked beseechingly at Angel several times, and pouted greatly when he hadn't done anything to reign Spike's complaining in. In all honesty, Angel had been having way too much fun watching her and Spike bicker to put a stop to it.  
  
"A smidge to the left."  
  
Willow dropped her side of a swatch of material and glared at Spike from atop an end table. "That's it," she exploded, stepping down. "I'll judge the straightness and you can hammer it in place."  
  
Angel, still holding his side of material next to a window on the first floor, caught sight of the gleam in Spike's eyes and wondered if he should warn Willow. He decided not to. If she didn't already know, it was high time she learned.  
  
Spike kicked the end table out of the way and took the hammer and nails that Willow shoved at him. She stepped back while Spike lifted the material and a few short directions later she gave the okay to nail it across the window. Angel took his time getting his nail set up, and watched Spike from the corner of his eye.  
  
Sure enough, he purposely missed the nail and sent the hammer crashing into the wall, leaving a nice-sized dent.  
  
"Oops," Spike said cheerfully. "Let me just try that again." Another hole was pummeled into the wall. "I guess carpentry's just not my thing."  
  
Angel turned to Willow and saw that she was staring at Spike and the wall with resignation. "Never mind," she sighed, then eyed the holes again. "At least you marked where I need to nail it."  
  
"I need more nails," Drusilla chimed in from her place on the floor next to the sofa that they'd situated Dev on. After she'd decided that she wanted to pound things with a hammer too, Willow had gone into the basement and come back up with a block of wood. Dru had been busily hammering nails into it for the past half hour.  
  
"Spike can get you some," Willow told Dru as she moved the end table back in place and carefully climbed on it again. Spike handed her the hammer and nails with a wink, and she rolled her eyes in exasperation. "You're incorrigible, and I don't understand why you're not doing anything about it, Angel."  
  
Shrugging, Angel finally got to work nailing his side of the material up, then handed the dangling edge of the material to Willow. "You think I'll have any better luck making him act like an adult than you do?" he asked with a grin.  
  
Willow glared at him, then nailed her side of the material into place. Five windows and an hour later, they were finally done. Willow climbed down from her latest perch, a chair, and sat down with a thump at the dining room table.  
  
"I'm officially done," she announced to the room at large. "The windows are blocked, the television and DVD player are set up, all the stuff has been unpacked, the groceries are put away, the beds are made and I refuse to do anything else tonight."  
  
"Hungry?" Angel asked helpfully and she nodded, her eyes wide and hopeful. "If you got eggs, I'll whip you up an omelet," he offered.  
  
Willow moaned and rubbed her stomach. "Yep, got eggs," she confirmed.  
  
Angel moved into the kitchen, which was on the other side of a half-wall from the dining room. He got out the eggs and then began opening the cabinets, frowning as he did so.  
  
"There's no more room," Drusilla said with disappointment. Angel craned his neck and saw her lift the block of wood for everyone's inspection. Sure enough, every available inch had been filled by nails. "I want to stake the wood some more."  
  
"Well, even if you had more room, we're out of nails," Willow drawled at Drusilla, who was sitting cross-legged on the dining room table. "Tomorrow I'll get you more nails and a bigger piece of wood."  
  
"And pick up some bleedin' ashtrays while you're at it," Spike piped in, flicking ash into an empty soda can. "Don't know how long I can keep aiming properly." He tilted his head. "You *did* buy a vacuum didn't you? Maybe a broom?"  
  
"Uh, Willow?" Angel said hesitantly. "You also might want to get some pots and pans."  
  
Angel watched as Willow stood up and looked around at them all. He couldn't read the look on her face, and decided his best bet was to look as innocent as possible. Spike apparently had the same thought, though it was Angel's opinion that he didn't pull it off nearly as well.  
  
"You know," Willow said at length, her voice bland. "There's a lot of things I didn't sign up for that I've put up with. Playing housewife to the bunch of you is not going to be one of those things." She shook her head. "Wal-Mart is open twenty-four/seven and they'll welcome your business. For now, I'm watching television."  
  
With that, she turned on her heel and left the room. Angel met Spike's eyes and they frowned. "Wal-Mart? Us?" Angel said dubiously.  
  
Spike shook his head. "You, mate," he corrected, curling his lip. "I've already done my time there during the first round of shopping."  
  
"Fine, I'll go," Angel said, resigned, glancing down at his watch. "Make a list of everything we need. It's only one. I should be able to get there and back well before dawn."  
  
Spike snorted. "So you think. I'm telling you, time doesn't flow right in that hellhole, and don't get me started on the people."  
  
"Just make the list. I'll go see if there's anything else Willow wants."  
  
In the living room, Willow was curled up on an armchair, her lids drifting shut as she watched a movie. Angel flipped on a small light next to the sofa, mentally adding light bulbs to the list when it didn't turn on.  
  
"Most of them are dead," Willow said sleepily. "I think we need about ten of them altogether."  
  
"I'm going to head out now," Angel told her. "Anything else you can think of?"  
  
"I didn't really mean that," she said with a sigh. "I'll go out tomorrow for all that stuff."  
  
Angel shook his head. "We're perfectly capable of pitching in. Just tell me what else we need. Oh, and maybe hand over the cash card," he added with a smile.  
  
Willow chuckled and sat up, reaching into her back pocket. "Thanks," she said sincerely. She held out the ATM card. "The pin number is one-two-three- four."  
  
"Very secure," Angel remarked drolly.  
  
"Yeah, well, it's easy to remember," she said, blushing slightly. "We could use an extension cord. Oh, and a couple of really long phone cords. Batteries for the remotes. And if you could get a hair-dryer, I'll be your friend forever," she added with a wide smile.  
  
"Got it," Angel laughed. "Why don't you get some sleep?"  
  
"I will," she said, yawning. "I just want to enjoy the being in one place a bit more, you know?"  
  
Yeah, he did know.  
  
"Okay, here's your list," Spike said, sauntering into the room with Drusilla. "We need some snacks, too, but you can get those at the hellhole."  
  
Angel took the list and then grabbed the van keys from the coffee table. "All right, I'll be back soon."  
  
"I want to go," Drusilla said, sidling up to him and linking her arm through his.  
  
"Dru, I don't think--" Angel began, but Willow cut him off.  
  
"That's a great idea. You'll love Wal-Mart, Dru."  
  
Angel stared at her incredulously while Drusilla hurried off to find her shoes. "Willow, you know--"  
  
"I agree," Spike chirped, crossing to the television and changing the channel, much to Willow's disgust. "Dru's been getting antsy."  
  
"I really--"  
  
"It'll be fun, Daddy," Drusilla cooed, returning to his side and rubbing her head against his shoulder. "We can pick out lovely things and scare all the sweet smelling people."  
  
"Won't find many of those in that pit," Spike snorted. "They reek worse than the van does."  
  
"Dru, you should stay here," Angel tried again.  
  
Her hand tightened on his arm and she glared up at him, her eyes flashing daggers. "I'm going," she hissed. "Always stuck inside, like a mouse in a maze. I'm not a rodent!"  
  
"Of course you're not, Dru," Willow said sympathetically, but she was fighting back a smile. "Look at that sweet face of hers, Angel. How can you say no to that?"  
  
Drusilla took the hint and pouted prettily, a charming smile pulling at her lips. Angel rolled his eyes. "Fine," he bit out. "But you'd better listen to me, Dru. I mean it. I won't put up with any scenes, got it?"  
  
She nodded emphatically and danced to the front door. Angel got directions from Willow and then he and Dru headed out.  
  
***  
  
"So," Spike said after Angel and Dru had left. "I know why I wanted Angel to take Dru, but why did you?"  
  
Willow glanced at him and shrugged. "He made me deal with you in Wal-Mart, and turnabout is fair play. What's your reason?"  
  
"I'm incorrigible," Spike replied with a wink. "At least, that's what some cheeky red head tells me."  
  
"She's right," Willow agreed. "And would you please pick a station and leave it on. My head is starting to hurt."  
  
Spike considered increasing his channel-flipping, but a good look at Willow had him deciding against it. She had woken up at dawn like clockwork, still used to their previous schedule, and had been running non-stop ever since. Add to that the lack of dinner, and she wasn't in the best of shape.  
  
A few more channel changes and he settled on HBO, where the Matrix was playing. Unsurprisingly, Willow sat up and came to attention. "Great movie," she commented approvingly. "Oh, and it's the beginning."  
  
Movies generally required popcorn, in Spike's opinion, and he also figured Willow could do with getting something in her stomach. If he was right, she hadn't eaten anything since before she'd returned to the motel that afternoon after signing the lease.  
  
"Is there popcorn?" he asked her.  
  
Willow's eyes lit up. "In the cabinet to the left of the sink."  
  
Spike stood up and grinned down at her. "Sit tight, then."  
  
In the kitchen he found the box of popcorn with ease, and tossed a package in the microwave that had come with the house. Four minutes later, he returned to the living room with the steaming bag, and several sodas.  
  
Willow slid off the chair and sat on the floor, reaching out eagerly to take one of the sodas. Spike noticed that she winced and rolled her shoulders as she did so.  
  
"Sore?"  
  
"A little," she admitted with a grimace. "Someone had me holding my arms up in the air for hours today."  
  
He rolled his eyes at her attempt at a guilt-trip and checked on Dev, who was still on the sofa. He thought about bringing her upstairs and setting up the monitor, but he really didn't want her set up in a room all by herself. Seemed like a way to forget her again.  
  
Her condition had continued to improve exponentially since Willow erected the shield around her. There was still a damn long way to go, but it was nice to see the smaller injuries, like the bruising on her face, disappear entirely. Made her seem more like his Dev and less like a pathetic creature. She was resting sedately, he saw, her renewed healing and Willow's salve keeping the pain at bay.  
  
Spike sat on the chair that Willow had abandoned and reached over her head to grab a handful of popcorn from the bag she was holding. "Stop hogging it," he groused.  
  
She snickered and moved the bag so that it was next to her hip, wincing again at the motion. Spike frowned and kept one eye on her as he watched the movie. Ten minutes and a dozen shifts in position from Willow later, Spike finally snorted in exasperation.  
  
"That's it," he complained. "I can't pay attention to the movie with you fidgeting like that."  
  
"Tough," Willow replied wryly.  
  
"Scoot back," Spike instructed her. She turned her head and looked at him warily. Spike rolled his eyes. "For crying out loud, I'm not going to beat you. Just scoot back."  
  
Still eyeing him suspiciously, Willow shifted back a couple of inches. Spike spread his legs and leaned down to take hold of her waist. He lifted her slightly and pulled her back once she was settled between his calves.  
  
"Stubborn," he snorted, placing his hands on her shoulders and kneading them.  
  
"Ow, that hurts!" she hissed, trying to pull away.  
  
"Stop jerking," Spike demanded. "You're tighter than--well, something really tight. It's gonna hurt until I get the muscles loosened up."  
  
She continued to flinch for a few more minutes, then the muscles released and her exclamations of pain changed to moans.  
  
"Oooh, God, that feels good," she sighed, her head lolling forward.  
  
"Told you," Spike said simply, smiling as leaned back against his legs.  
  
He shifted his hands and worked on her neck a bit.  
  
"Ooooooh, don't stop," she moaned.  
  
Spike's hands froze. On someone else, that exclamation would have been an invitation for more, one that he'd gladly accepted on more than one occasion. But on Willow it was.disconcerting. She was *Willow*.  
  
He frowned down at her, wondering if she realized what she sounded like. Probably not, he admitted. As comfortable as she'd gotten with him over the past week, he was damned sure that she'd still blush like a virgin and scurry away if she knew that she sounded practically orgasmic.  
  
Willow pushed her head back, nudging his hands, and he took the hint. Innocence wasn't something he generally tolerated with anything less than blatant disgust. It fit Willow, though. He honestly couldn't imagine her any other way except artless and easily embarrassed. In fact, he realized with surprise, the idea of not being that way didn't really sit well with him.  
  
When her muscles were as relaxed as they were going to get, Spike pulled his hands back. Willow made a small sound of disappointment and nudged him again.  
  
"You're fine now," he chided.  
  
"No I'm not," she denied cutely, turning her head and raising her brows hopefully. "I'm already tensing up again." She wiggled her shoulders. "See for yourself."  
  
Lips twitching, Spike put a hand on her chin and turned her head forward again. "Yes, all tense again," he drawled indulgently, though her muscles were still looser than pull taffy. "Now sit still and watch the movie, eh?"  
  
"Okay," she sighed happily.  
  
Gradually, Spike slowed his motions until his hands came to a complete rest on her shoulders ten minutes later. He waited, but there was no complaint from Willow, who was leaning sedately against his legs. Spike peered around her shoulder to look at her face. She was sleeping.  
  
Shaking his head at himself, he settled her more comfortably against him and leaned back in the chair. He lit a cigarette and watching the movie.  
  
It was a half an hour later, at almost two-thirty in the morning, when Spike's cell phone rang. Willow came awake suddenly, jumping to her feet and staring around with wide, confused eyes. Cursing, Spike got up and grabbed the phone from the top of the television.  
  
"What?" he snapped, watching as Willow's eyes cleared and she sat on the chair.  
  
"I need to talk to Willow," Angel said.  
  
"Willow?" Spike repeated. "Well, you're in luck since you just woke her up and all."  
  
Shaking his head, Spike tossed the phone to Willow. She sighed and put it to her ear. "What is it? Uh huh. Sixty watts should be fine. Anything else? Okay." She hung up the phone and set in on her lap. "Apparently, Angel's never had to buy light bulbs before," she told Spike, her voice still husky from sleep.  
  
"Color me surprised," Spike snickered. "Why don't you head to bed?"  
  
Even with the muted lighting, he saw her cheeks color. "I'm sorry for falling asleep on you. Again. I really won't make a habit of that."  
  
Spike shrugged. "You're bloody exhausted, Willow," he said bluntly, then smirked. "I'm not reading anything into it, but if I should, just let me know."  
  
Her blush heightened and she covered her face with her hands. "Incorrigible jerk," she muttered. "I swear--"  
  
The phone rang again, and he had the sudden realization that it wasn't going to be the last time. There were probably more than a few things on that list that Angel had never had to buy before.  
  
"I shouldn't have let him go without me," Willow said, apparently having the same thought. She was staring at the phone from between her fingers. "Do you think he'll be mad if I don't answer?"  
  
"Furious," Spike responded. "I suggest you keep him on the phone until he gets the rest of what we need."  
  
Sighing, Willow answered the phone.  
  
***  
  
It was almost four before Willow finally went to the room she'd claimed as her own. She changed into her pajamas and then made her way down the hall to the bathroom to wash up. She'd stayed on the phone with Angel for almost an hour, then waited for him and Dru to come back to make sure he'd gotten everything right.  
  
The purchases had been fine, thanks to Willow walking him through them. Angel, on the other hand, had looked stressed beyond belief. No doubt wandering through the bright aisles of the store trying to decide if Willow needed a straight or curly phone wire while dealing with Dru had worn him down.  
  
She wasn't feeling particular sympathetic about that at the moment. She hadn't slept in almost twenty-four hours, the nap in the living room aside, and the popcorn hadn't been nearly substantial enough to appease her empty stomach. Maybe in the morning she'd be able to muster some appropriate sympathetic noises for him, but not right then.  
  
At the moment, she was more concerned with the comfy bed that had her name on it. Willow finished brushing her teeth and left the bathroom, almost bumping into Spike, who had Dev in his arms, in the hallway.  
  
"Which room is she in?" Spike asked.  
  
In answer, Willow led him down the hallway to the master bedroom. She'd prepared the bed earlier that night. Flipping on the overhead light, Willow stepped out of the way and let Spike bring Dev into the room.  
  
"Why don't you put her on her back?" Willow suggested. "It's healed enough and it might be nice for her to be in a different position."  
  
Spike shrugged and gently placed Dev on the bed, brushing her hair out of her face and staring down at her battered body. Her breasts still looked awful, and the gaping hole in her abdomen was still prominent, as it was healing from the bottom up. So, still the hole but no longer were organs visible. Even so, the hole was terrible.  
  
"I've seen worse," he rasped out, eyes pinned to Dev. "Fuck, I've *done* worse."  
  
Strangely, she wasn't horrified by that revelation. Maybe she was getting used to being around vampires, with their way of thinking and their lack of guilt. Or maybe it was the look on Spike's face. The grief and pain; the horror and fury.  
  
"They weren't Dev," Willow said softly. "They weren't one of yours."  
  
He grunted. "At least you can see her face now. Isn't she beautiful?"  
  
"Yes, she is," she agreed. "Are you staying with her tonight?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Do you need anything?" she asked.  
  
Spike looked up, his eyes clearing when he looked at her. A small smile was on his lips as he shook his head. "Get yourself to bed. Treat yourself to a sleep-in."  
  
"Yes, sir," Willow replied smartly. "You too."  
  
She shut the door behind her, and made her way back to her own room. It was rather bare, all things considered, but it was still heavenly. Really, it was. The small dresser meant that she wasn't living out of her suitcase anymore, and the bed. Oh, the tiny single bed. Hers for however long she chose to sleep. And no vampires in the room with her. Heaven.  
  
She turned off the light and carefully walked to the bed, burrowing under the covers and snuggling into her pillow. Mere moments later, she was asleep.  
  
***  
  
The adrenaline-like rush of approaching dusk woke Spike. He bolted upright and scanned the room. Empty, except for Dev. He relaxed and adjusted the light sheet that he'd placed over her still form. The realization that he wasn't in the back of the van, not on the road, brought mixed reactions.  
  
On the one hand, he didn't miss being smashed in a vehicle with one human and three other vampires. Nor did he miss sharing a small, cramped room with them that allowed him not even a moment to himself. He was also damn relieved that Dev was on the mend.  
  
But on the other hand, being stationary would most likely give him more time to contemplate his own recently dark thoughts. That wasn't very appealing in the least, especially now that he didn't have Angel and Drusilla to drown in.  
  
Thinking more on the situation, he didn't think the staying in one place was going to be easy on anybody, actually. Even with the database to delve into, Willow was going to have too much time on her hands to think about home and friends. As for Angel, well, nothing would prevent him from the brooding. Though, the cheerleader seemed to have cut down on that a bit. As for Dru.there was such a thing as too much consistency, even for her. She was going to become restless and tempestuous at best.  
  
Angel came into the room then, the copper bowl in one hand and a mug of blood in another. Without a word, Spike changed and opened a vein as soon as Angel reached the bed. He watched impassively as the blood fell from his wrist and joined Angel's and Dru's. The wound had healed by the time the bowl was filled, and Spike placed an arm under Dev's shoulders and eased her into a sitting position. Angel brought the bowl to her lips and tipped it, letting the blood dribble into her mouth.  
  
A knot loosened in Spike's stomach when her swallowing instincts kicked in right away, instead of after a long, drawn out delay. Definitely getting better.  
  
When she had consumed the contents of the bowl, Spike lowered her gently to the bed again, and accepted the mug that Angel offered him.  
  
"I'll take this shift," Angel told him.  
  
Spike swallowed half the contents of the mug and looked at Angel. "When should I send Dru up?"  
  
Angel unbuckled his belt and removed it before answering. "Eight hour shifts should work," he mused, tossing the bit of leather onto the dresser in the corner.  
  
Spike smirked at the motion. Even Angelus had hated his waist being constricted while he slept. How many times had he watched the bastard unbutton his britches irritably before settling down for the night? Okay, not that many, since Darla had generally been with Angelus and he wasn't usually worrying about constriction because she tore the pants from him in their mating frenzy. But, still, it was a little quirk of this vampire in front of him, regardless of the state of his soul.  
  
Spike finished his blood and planted his feet on the floor to stand.  
  
"Make sure Willow gets some food in her today," Angel instructed him.  
  
Looking at the darker vampire, Spike raised a brow. "I do *not* cook," he grumbled. "Not even for one of us."  
  
Exasperated, Angel rolled his eyes as he slipped into bed with Dev. "I didn't say you should. Just make sure she eats; she looked a little shaky last night."  
  
Spike grunted and padded across the room on bare feet, scratching his chest while he yawned. Angel's voice stopped him just as he reached the door. "I know confinement doesn't sit well with you," he said blandly, "but don't make Willow suffer the brunt of it."  
  
Turned his head, Spike grinned at Angel, which cause him to shut his eyes in resignation. "Don't worry, mate. I'll use you for target practice, all right?"  
  
Dark eyes opened, that typically understated humor shining through. "As long as you know I'll respond in kind."  
  
Spike laughed and opened the door. "Look forward to it," he replied on his way out.  
  
He went directly to the living room and found Willow there, sitting cross- legged on the floor, the bottom half of her body under the coffee table. She had her head propped on one hand as she contemplated the contents of a mug in front of her. There was a plate of toast sitting at her elbow.  
  
She raised her head when she heard him come in, and smiled wanly, reaching out for the mug--coffee, by the smell of it. She inhaled deeply before taking a careful sip. She must not have been up for long, as her hair was still mussed and out of place from sleep, not yet brushed into a curtain of silk that inevitably got pushed behind her ears in irritation.  
  
And she was still dressed in her pajamas, those damn gray pants and tank top. From what Spike had seen over the past several weeks, she had three tops with her, same style in different colors. He liked the pink the least. It was a silly color for a grown woman to be wearing.  
  
Drusilla blew into the room then, her voice high pitched as she chatted about the dreams she'd had. As she rambled on, Spike saw Willow curl in on herself and devote all of her attention to the coffee in her hand. Someone wasn't a morning person.  
  
"Where are my tiny metal stakes, precious?"  
  
Willow cringed and looked up at Dru, who was in the middle of the living room with an expectant light in her eyes. "Uh, I don't know where Angel put them," Willow said huskily.  
  
Spike doubted that, but let her get away with it. Damned if he wanted to listen to Dru hammer nails into wood just half an hour after he'd woken up. Seeing the guilty look that spread over Willow's features, he guessed he was going to have to hear it at some point. Damn her soft heart.  
  
Dru pouted and Willow opened her mouth, but Spike beat her to it. "I'll find them for you in a bit, luv," he told Dru, smiling at her.  
  
She clapped her hands and Willow flinched again. He frowned. He didn't remember her being this sensitive after she'd woken up. Then again, he realized, she'd also been behind the wheel of the van no more than ten minutes after she'd woken up. If this was how she always was right after she'd woken up, that driving must have been Hell for her.  
  
"Don't you want something more substantial than that?" Spike asked Willow as she took a small bite of toast.  
  
Willow made a face and then frowned. "Yeah, but I'm not really up to cooking anything."  
  
Dru slunk out of the room, mumbling about her Angel and Devil. Willow stared after her blearily, but turned back to Spike when he spoke. "Been a while since I had some wings," he commented, looking meaningfully at the phone. "Or pizza, come to think of it."  
  
Her eyes grew round and her mouth dropped open a little bit. Spike grinned. A few minutes later she'd used her laptop to track down a local pizza joint and had called in an order.  
  
They were both restless as they waited for the food to arrive, and both started when the doorbell rang. Willow quickly roused herself to answer it, the look she tossed Spike relaying that she didn't trust him to behave.  
  
Spike smirked and pulled her away from the door when she would have opened it. "Stay back for a second," he instructed her.  
  
A frown came and went quickly, and then she ducked out of sight, pressing cash into his palm as she did so. Spike snickered when he saw the greasy faced git on the other side of the door, and exchanged the money for the food.  
  
Willow had retreated to the kitchen and set up plates on the dining room table. Spike blinked when he realized that she'd put some blood in the microwave for him. Hm.  
  
Dinner was uncomfortable and edgy. Spike found that he and Willow were both tense and frowning.  
  
"It feels weird," Willow finally said. "To not, uh, be on the road."  
  
"Bit of an understatement," Spike commented, tossing aside a wing and scowling. "I don't like this sitting on our hands business. Give me something to kill, right?"  
  
Willow rolled her eyes. "I was planning on relaxing today." Her lips twisted and she took a sip of soda. "I think I'll tackle the database instead. Give myself something to focus on."  
  
"Bully for you," Spike groused. "What am I supposed to do?"  
  
"Solitaire?" she suggested with a grin, and Spike flipped her off.  
  
***  
  
The following day, Willow finally got the database to make sense. With uninterrupted time to work on it, she'd been able to figure out the relationships and get something useful. Her excitement was short lived.  
  
There were no dates for any of the entries listed. A quick glance through the events gave her no idea which had occurred recently, and which had occurred twenty years before. And the references were just not ringing any bells with her.  
  
She chewed her lip and stared at the screen, glancing up when the sounds of Dru's laughter drifted down from the second floor. The vampire occupants of the house were in Dev's room, killing time and trying to keep each other from getting too bored.  
  
Turning her attention back to the problem at hand, her brows drew together. She didn't have the resources to research the sources Dev have mentioned in her entries. No question about that. So, then, how the heck was she going to figure out if the attack on Dev was related to any of the events in the Analects? Try as she might, she couldn't think of a way besides researching the listings.  
  
That problem tumbled through her head as she went into the kitchen for some chips. She leaned against the counter and munched, then her face lit up. Of course. She didn't have the resources available, but someone else did.  
  
"I must admit that I haven't looked into any of that," Wesley confessed ten minutes later. "My effort was originally focused on attempting to pinpoint how you were all being tracked. And then Angel assured me that Dev's records were the only reliable source."  
  
"Well, they are," Willow conceded, switching the phone to her other ear and delving into the FTP files again. "But the Analects only point you towards the sources. So I know where to look, but I don't have any of the texts or books to look in."  
  
"Ah, I see," Wesley murmured. "Yes, I could help with that. Could you send me the source listings, and perhaps some of the details?"  
  
Willow grinned. "I can do a whole lot better than that, actually. I'll email you a spreadsheet of everything in the database." She frowned as she exported the query she'd run. "Do you mind? It's going to be a whole lot of work and I won't be able to give you anything more than what's in the database."  
  
"I look forward to it, actually," Wesley said enthusiastically. "There hasn't been much going on here. And Cordelia could use some work to focus on as well."  
  
It was a bit of a stretch for Willow to think that even the new and improved Cordelia would be happy about tons of research, but she didn't share that thought with Wesley. Once the document had been sent over to him, he confirmed that it wasn't gibberish and then promised to call her back with any information he'd found out. At the last minute, Willow told him to focus first on the Sanskrit entry she'd highlighted, and he assured her he would.  
  
After hanging up, Willow sat at the dining room table and stared around herself, feeling a bit lost. Well, now what was she supposed to do?  
  
Shrugging, she went upstairs and joined the others.  
  
***  
  
Over the next week, the house fell into a routine. A very flexible, ever- changing and nocturnal routine, but a routine nonetheless.  
  
Willow had kept up the sleep-by-day routine, mainly because those were the hours that everyone else in the house kept. During the days, the vampires would take turns sleeping in Dev's room while the other two bunked down in the third bedroom.  
  
During the night, there was a vampire with Dev at all times as well. The rest of the house did their own thing then, but without fail there was at least one other body on the bed with Dev, holding her hand, smoothing her hair.  
  
More often than not, Spike was absolutely disgusted by the *domesticated* atmosphere that had been created in the house. It was sickening to him on so many levels. Even playing poker in Dev's room had a homey feeling that made him want to retch. But then there would come the nights when it was Angel or Dru's turn to sit with Dev, and Spike would find himself in the living room with Willow, and it wouldn't seem so terrible.  
  
Because, while Willow was naïve and idealistic, she was also damn near brilliant. The combination made for some fantastic arguments. He knew that Willow would get halfway through the debate and wonder how the fuck she'd gotten pulled into it, but her natural obstinacy refused to allow her to walk away. Plus, it was Spike's opinion that she was rather unused to having someone with half a brain to hash things out with.  
  
A surprised glint would come into her eyes when he would neatly trash whatever theory or flawless idea she flung at him. Then Spike would smirk, because he knew that she was hooked and wouldn't end it until she won. But he was the same way, and they usually parted ways with scowls and glares before each settled down to bed and decided that they'd won, instead of the other.  
  
It was just passed dusk, a week after they arrived, and Spike had just woken up. He stretched as he walked down the stairs, dressed only in a pair of faded black jeans, and made his way into the kitchen. It was spotless as usual, just like the rest of the house. Willow and Angel tended it, not even bothering trying to convince Spike to give them a hand. He knew Willow had considered it once, when he'd been sitting on the chair in the living room munching on snacks while she'd been cleaning. He'd followed her eyes to the dents by the window and smirked, knowing he was safe.  
  
Willow was already in the kitchen, leaning against the counter and staring blearily at the coffee pot, a mug in her hand.  
  
"Morning'," she muttered when she noticed him, her eyes flicking back to the coffee pot immediately.  
  
He grunted in response and took his own mug from the dish rack. He pulled open the fridge and dumped a pack of blood in the mug and then stepped around Willow to get to the microwave. His arm brushed hers and he jerked away, slamming the small door of the microwave shut with more force than was necessary.  
  
That, he admitted darkly, had been happening more and more, and he didn't like it. Not even a little. Ever since that damned massage in the living room, he'd become aware of things like the grazing of bare flesh. It was ridiculous. He'd cleaned her shirtless form after she'd thrown up back in Los Angeles, had practically torn clothes off of her that night they'd gone to the karaoke bar, had her sleeping form pressed against him on two occasions, and hadn't had anything even close to a reaction. But rubbing her shoulders had left its mark? Didn't make sense.  
  
The microwave beeped at the same time that Willow got tired of waiting for the coffee pot to fill. Spike punched the button that opened the microwave just as Willow deftly slipped the coffee pot from the burner and replaced it with her cup. Once it was filled, she reversed the process and sighed.  
  
Spike's jaw clenched. No, it hadn't been the damn massage, his hands on her neck and shoulders, which had left a mark. It had been the sounds. Those small noises of satisfaction Willow had made that served to remind him that he was now cut off from his only sources of sex. Sounds similar to the soft exhalation of pleasure that she'd just emitted. Maybe he'd been a little too hasty to agree to the change of the family relationship with Dru and Angel.  
  
Snorting, he followed Willow into the living room. She curled up on one side of the sofa, blinking widely as she took a sip of her coffee. Spike slouched in the chair and fumbled for the remote as he vamped out and took a hit from the mug. The two were still waking up several minutes later when Dru glided into the room.  
  
Spike watched Willow tips her head back and dump the contents of her mug back in two huge swallows. Growling slightly, Spike did the same with his blood, wishing to hell that it would kick in pretty fast.  
  
"There are songs on the wind this night," Dru announced, a boldly sexual tinge in her voice.  
  
Spike raised his head slowly and saw her cascading limbs joining her pelvis in several twists and gyrations. He frowned and set his cup on the table next to the chair. Contrary to what an onlooker might think, this type of behavior from Dru didn't mean that she was in the mood for a shag.  
  
"What kind of songs, princess?" Spike asked softly, holding his hand out to her. She wafted his way, her delicate but deadly fingers wrapping around his own, and her slight but strong body settling on his lap. Her head settled in the crook of his neck and he felt the gentle flutter of her eyelashes against his skin.  
  
"Red songs, Spike," she whispered. "Lovely, they are. Glittering with pain and violence, whispering in my ear about death. It's coming."  
  
"Tonight?" Willow asked. Spike looked at her, saw the frown on her face and the worry in her eyes.  
  
"No, Precious," Dru said softly, curling tighter around Spike. "Soon, though. I can't decide if I like it or not."  
  
"Well, you'll find out, won't you?" Spike soothed her. "Until then, how about we play some cards?"  
  
They convinced Willow to join them in Dev's room, and the next few hours were spent playing various games with Angel. Several times, Willow had become lost in thought. Spike hadn't thought much of it until he noticed Dru watching Willow with a narrowed internal gaze.  
  
Dru's earlier words still on his mind, Spike waited until Willow and Angel had wondered off before moving to Drusilla and pulling her close.  
  
"Princess," he murmured, brushing his thumbs across her cheeks. "Tell me what's going on."  
  
Her lovely features fell into troubled lines as she turned her gaze towards the door through which Willow had exited. "So much surrounds her, Spike. Shifting and spinning around and around. Just when I see it, it's gone and something new is there."  
  
Spike leaned his forehead against hers. "Why are you seeing her at all?" he asked, knowing that Dru didn't see things in everyone, but still unsure even after all this time why she saw it in some but not in others.  
  
A low dark laugh trickled from Dru's lips and danced along Spike's face. "Disorder and turmoil come for tea every day."  
  
"Why is it changing so much?"  
  
Dru stepped back from him and smiled mysteriously. "*She* is changing, luv." She reached out her arm, walking her fingers along his chest, each settling of her finger punctuated by her next words. "One small step at a time, barely noticeable to even herself."  
  
Spike flinched away from her hand. "That damned song you're hearing, it's about Willow isn't it? The pain and violence and death. It's all to do with Willow."  
  
Her eyes grew clouded and she frowned. "It will come," she said, her voice serrated. "But who will suffer it, who will drown in the blood? So much that has nothing to do with her depends on her." Drusilla moved forward, catching and holding his gaze, but putting none of her gifts into it. Spike felt his jaw clench as she floated around him. "It's intricate," she cooed. "Finely wrought, but so delicate. It waits only for her choice."  
  
She'd come full circle so that she was standing in front of him again. He swallowed and stepped towards her, not sure what he was thinking, what he was intending to say. "She--"  
  
A single finger on his lips quieted him, and she stared into his eyes for a long while before dragging her digit down his chin and letting her arm fall to her side. "Not time," she whispered cryptically.  
  
And she was gone, leaving Spike to stare after her, definitely confused and possibly a slew of other things he wasn't sure about.  
  
***  
  
Angel kicked Spike and Willow out of the house the next night. Stormed into the living room during one of their conversations and just told them to get the hell out.  
  
Willow stared at him in stupefied silence for a long moment, then collected herself enough to speak. "Excuse me?" she stammered.  
  
"You heard me," Angel growled, glaring at the two of them. "You're riding my last nerve." Spike smirked and Angel narrowed his eyes. "Both of you."  
  
"Hey!" Spike protested. "She started it."  
  
Willow's eyes widened and she looked from Spike to Angel. "No I didn't! Spike is the one--"  
  
"I don't give a damn who started what," Angel said loudly, and Willow lowered her brows. "But if I have to listen to the two of you argue for a minute more, I'm going to lock you both in the basement. So get out."  
  
"We weren't arguing," Willow denied. "We were..."  
  
"Debating," Spike filled in, nodding emphatically. "That's it. Nice and friendly. Right, Will?"  
  
"Yeah. I don't understand why you're...giving us das boot! Doesn't seem very fair," she tacked on, folding her arms under her breasts.  
  
Angel cut a hand through the air. "Whatever you want to call it, I've heard enough of it tonight. Walk it off."  
  
They stomped out of the house under Angel's watchful gaze, and the door slammed shut behind them. "That was just rude," Willow sniffed as they trudged down the porch steps. "You don't see us tossing him out when he gets all depressingly broody, do you?"  
  
Spike took up the call for bitching. "No, and he actually deserves it. Sucks the joy out of the place," he spat. "I guess we're just better than he is."  
  
Willow thought about that and nodded. "Yeah, yeah we are."  
  
They wandered through the neighborhood then, passing house after house. It made her smile when she realized that they'd gone about ten blocks without speaking. Who would have thought she and Spike would be able to exist in companionable silence? She stole a glance at him and frowned. Hm, apparently she was the only one who found it companionable. Spike seemed rather distracted.  
  
"Take a picture; it'll last longer," he drawled sardonically.  
  
She rolled her eyes and kicked at a random rock on the sidewalk. "Why are you so quiet? I'm not used to stoic Spike. Makes me nervous."  
  
"Yeah, well, you're a Nervous Nellie at the best of times." She glared at him and kicked the rock at his foot. It missed. "Just tired of being all cooped up, is all. Tired of doing nothing. Tired of--"  
  
"Waiting," Willow finished with a nod. He slanted a look at her and she shrugged. "I'm kind of at loose ends since I turned that information from the database over to Wesley. Not really sure what I'm supposed to do now, you know?"  
  
"Welcome to my pain," Spike grumbled as they turned a corner. "It's bloody frustrating."  
  
The houses in this area were more upscale, signaling that they'd passed into a more affluent neighborhood. There were fences at street level, behind which several laps of walkways lead to doors. She wondered if the area was patrolled by private security and if they'd be stopped. Naw, she wasn't a Nervous Nellie. Just...cautious.  
  
"I usually enjoy the downtime," Willow said after a fashion. "But that's when I'm at home, with friends and school and life. What about you?"  
  
Spike gave her a surprised look. "What *about* me?"  
  
She waved a vague hand. "What do you do in your downtime?"  
  
"Why?"  
  
Frowning, she said, "Um, because I'm curious. Friends should know things like that."  
  
A few steps later, she realized that Spike was no longer beside her. She turned. He was standing a few feet away, glowering darkly at her. Willow half stumbled back instinctively.  
  
"We're not *friends*," Spike snapped at her. "It'd do you well to remember that."  
  
His eyes began to shift, and she could almost see his muscles tense up. "What's going on here, Spike?" she asked hesitantly. "It was just a question. You don't have to answer it."  
  
"Oh, but I want to," he said silkily, and Willow shivered. "In my *downtime* I pop over to the next town to hunt so that Slutty doesn't ram a soddin' soul down my throat. And I spend a good deal of time fantasizing about killing her and the rest of you without getting all souled up."  
  
Willow felt her face become a blank mask. "You've made your point," she told him distantly. "I won't be idiotic enough to call you a friend again."  
  
He nodded tersely. "Good. Because I'm not. This ends, and you're just another meal on wheels, got it?"  
  
And she knew, then, what this was about. This was about his role in the hierarchy, and her lack thereof. He was bringing it home loud and clear that he would be a danger to her after this. Just as he'd always been. It was a warning to not believe anything he might say to the contrary in the future. Part of her understood this rationally, but a larger part of her just got so very angry.  
  
Angry that he couldn't just come out and say it, but had to scare her and threaten her. Angry that he thought she didn't already know it. Angry that they just couldn't walk without some kind of drama.  
  
"Oh, I've got it," Willow said sweetly. "This ends, and you're one mean comment away from being dust."  
  
The thing that was funny--not ha-ha funny, but just freaky--about what happened next was that Willow later realized that she'd set it up. With her words, carefully selected to incite him further. With her knowledge of how he would then react, how he'd feel forced to remind her that he wasn't easy to dust.  
  
And she did it because he needed a reminder, too. She wasn't the same girl he'd kidnapped and threatened years before. Or the same girl he'd cornered in her dorm room last year. Or the same hurting girl who'd botched all her spells. She wasn't even the same girl he'd driven out to Los Angeles.  
  
So when he flew at her, faster than he thought she'd be expecting, a plank of wood from the fence beside her was suddenly in his path. She saw his eyes widen when he realized it was headed for his heart, then there was confusion when he and the plank just stopped. Mid-air. The wood just inches from his chest.  
  
A gleam of satisfaction slid into his gaze, and it grated on Willow. "Let me clue you in on something else," she said coldly, one hand held up in front of her to control Spike and the plank. "You might want to go someplace other than Sunnydale when this is over, because getting saddled with a soul is the *last* thing you'll need to be worried about anymore."  
  
She moved her hand to the side, and the wood moved with it. She waited until Spike had relaxed and then pushed forward suddenly. The plank pierced the right side of his chest, and he cried out in pain as she let him drop to the ground.  
  
"You do me proud, Red," he gasped, his voice filled with equal parts pain and laughter.  
  
And it was the laughter that made Willow narrow her eyes and clench her hand into a fist as she looked down at him. "Why don't you spend the rest of the night thinking about where you'll move," she suggested caustically, then turned and walked away. "See you at dawn."  
  
*** 


	10. Part 10

Spike was slumped against a tree in the backyard when Willow finally deigned to come outside. She'd certainly made her bloody point. He hadn't been able to get the damn wood out of his chest. Nothing had worked. Finally he'd given up, realizing she'd done something to make it impossible to remove.  
  
He'd been tempted to stroll--okay, stumble, into the house and demand that she undo it, but thought better of it. Angel would know, just know, that Spike had done something to force her hand, and that wouldn't do at all.  
  
From her parting words, he assumed she'd put it right sometime near dawn, but he hadn't thought she'd wait so long. The bloody sun was going to rise in twenty minutes.  
  
Pushing away from the tree with a muttered curse, he slowly and painfully crossed the small yard. He made a small uncomfortable sound when the movements caused the wood to shift, and she noticed him. The blood drained from her face and she started trembling.  
  
Oh, hell, he hadn't expected this, and he should have. Par for the course tonight, it seemed. She'd managed to surprise him twice now.  
  
"Get this thing out of me," Spike growled from behind clenched teeth, "then indulge yourself."  
  
A quick wave of her hand and Spike could feel his body ease its grip on the wood. Before he could reach up and finally yank the damn thing out of his chest, she had already done so from a distance. There were stars in his eyes as he fell to his knees and grabbed at his chest. When much of the pain faded, he smelled blood.  
  
He lifted his head and saw Willow several feet away, holding a mug. She looked upset and hesitant. "Bring it here," Spike told her. "I won't bite." She frowned and he shook his head. "Lesson's well and truly over, pet. Promise."  
  
She brought him more blood when he finished that, and then sat in front of him. Her hands clamped around handfuls of grass and wrenched them from the earth.  
  
"Impressive all around," Spike grunted. "Nice touch to leave me to stew in my own juices."  
  
She looked like she was going to puke, but Spike did nothing, said nothing. He'd lied, really. Lesson wasn't over just yet.  
  
"I-I-I don't know what came over me," she whimpered.  
  
"Survival instinct," he said bluntly. "Always knew you had one in there somewhere."  
  
"It was cruel," she continued, eyes wide and blank. "Cruel and-and-and awful and I'm sorry."  
  
Spike considered Willow's distressed form for a while. "Come on," he finally said casually. "I all but asked for it."  
  
Her head swiveled back and forth almost crazily. "No, I baited you into coming at me *just* so I could do that," she cried out.  
  
"And you had *no* reason to do that, now did you?" Spike drawled sarcastically. She opened her mouth, but he glared at her and she shut it again. "This was entirely my fault, no matter what you think."  
  
"I set you up to take that plank in the chest!" Willow cried out, breathing raggedly. "How can you possibly say that's your fault?"  
  
"Because I should have known you'd do it," Spike said honestly. "Shouldn't have been trying to teach you a lesson without knowing how it would go." He shook his head and smiled wryly. "Based the scenario on how you would have reacted a month ago. I think I got off easy, all things considered."  
  
"You think this was just a lesson?" she asked quietly, her eyes boring into him. "Spike, what I did to you--" She shook her head. "I never would have thought I could do something like that. But I did. And you're acting so-so- so casual about it."  
  
"You think we just have to protect you here and now?" Spike asked her intently. "You think we don't have to take into consideration what happens after all of this?" He shook his head. "As much as I'd like you to be easily duped by me later on, I can't let you be. What would have happened if I'd been going after you for real?"  
  
She shook her head and pulled her hands from the grass she'd mangled. "You'd have bitten me. Killed me," she whispered.  
  
"If I was feeling generous," he said bluntly, and she flinched.  
  
He watched her process that, turn it over and study it from every angle, and he saw the knowledge come into her that she might have just wished he'd killed her quickly.  
  
"But I don't understand how I could have *done* that," she maintained weakly.  
  
"Just get over that already, will you?" Spike snapped crossly. "You've been living with vampires for how long now? Only natural for it to have a temporary effect on you."  
  
Her eyes glinted briefly. "Temporary?"  
  
Spike snorted. "Yeah, temporary." Her brow knitted and her eyes began to clear. "No hard feelings on my part."  
  
"I'm still sorry," she ventured.  
  
"Don't be," he dismissed. "Now can we get in the damn house? There's about three minutes until the ball of light comes out and burns me to a crisp."  
  
They went inside and upstairs. Willow stopped him when he would have gone into Dev's room. "Now that we're clear about where we'll stand after this," she ventured hesitantly, her eyes averted, "could we maybe just, uh, go back to being friendly again?"  
  
Spike stilled and looked away from her trembling hands and weary eyes. He'd wanted to make sure she wouldn't be susceptible to him later on; he'd been obligated to do so.  
  
The ease with which she'd hardened herself during their encounter had initially pleased him. Then she'd left him, with that wood glued to his insides and the pain damn near enough to make him pass out once or twice. She'd just gone back home and she hadn't thought a thing about it until she'd been faced with him again hours later. That hadn't pleased him. That edge that had shown itself, that viciousness that had appeared...that had troubled him.  
  
Dru had said everything was shifting in Willow, and Spike had seen that tonight firsthand. Whether it was a shift that she needed to get through what Dru saw coming, or whether it would be her undoing, he didn't know.  
  
He'd explained her actions away to calm her but he didn't really believe the excuse. Not deep down. No, some part of him knew that it *was* the quiet ones, the good ones, that one had to watch out for. Always had the darkest sides to them. He was a prime example of that, wasn't he? Oh, yes.  
  
"Yeah, sure," Spike told her softly.  
  
She smiled, relieved, and went into her room. Spike felt his face settle into blank lines as he entered Dev's room. Though it was Dru's shift with Dev, Angel was in there as well. Both were on the bed, and Angel looked up when he stepped into the room, his eyes zeroing in on the bloody mess that was Spike's shirt and chest.  
  
Spike studiously ignored him as he stripped to his waist and wordlessly put his portion into the copper bowl. After Dev was fed, Dru kissed her forehead and crossed to Spike. Her eyes met his and she smiled somewhat sadly, her hand brushing his cheek before she left the room.  
  
Angel was there when he turned around, gaze inscrutable as he stared at Spike. "I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that Willow didn't get bored and ask you to walk her back earlier."  
  
Spike didn't say anything.  
  
"Tread carefully," Angel warned softly.  
  
***  
  
It took a couple of days for Willow to relax around Spike again, and he wasn't very helpful in facilitating it. Generally he studied her with a probing gaze that made her skin itch and caused her to leave the room. She didn't want to see the knowledge of what she'd done in his eyes, even if it wasn't actually there.  
  
She'd decided he was right in his assessment of what had happened; she'd simply gotten caught up in the vampire state of mind. No problem. She just wouldn't let it happen again. Period. End of story. If there was any doubt in her mind about that, it was pushed aside along with every other thought of what she'd done. Far aside. Like, hidden deep in the back of her head. Period. End of story.  
  
He was staring at her again, and Willow had to curl her hands into fists so that she wouldn't start scratching at her arms. She was just about to flee the living room when Dru growled something at Spike in a language that definitely wasn't English. Dru had begged Angel to take her shift with Dev and was sitting beside Willow on the sofa.  
  
Spike's eyes finally left Willow, to stare at Dru in surprise. He said something back to her, and then frowned at the response he got.  
  
They were talking about her. Of course they were. She started to rise again, but Dru's hand was on her arm. "It's all right, precious," she cooed. "The paths are winding and circular, yet linear and absolute." Willow frowned and shook her head in confusion. Dru's dark eyes glittered delightedly and she took her hand from Willow's arm and ran her fingers along her neck. "Spike is so very loyal."  
  
Willow looked at Spike, hoping for a translation or enlightenment about what Dru was saying, but Spike just rolled his eyes and twisted his lips. "Just tell her to be quiet," he suggested indulgently. "She'll ramble on like that all night if you let her. It's cute at first, but that doesn't last."  
  
Dru pouted and leaned her head on Willow's shoulder, peering up at her with baleful eyes. "You don't find me tiresome, do you, precious?" she asked cutely.  
  
Willow's lips twitched. Faced with that countenance, what could she say but, "No, Dru, I don't."  
  
"See," Dru crowed happily. "Precious adores me."  
  
Spike pointed a finger at Willow. "Now you've gone and done it," he said drolly. "Won't ever get a moment's peace again."  
  
His eyes were light and open, and Willow looked at them for a long time before she realized that things had somehow morphed back to normal again. At least, she thought so. A moment later, the thought was confirmed when Spike winked at her.  
  
She smiled goofily, and Spike's lips quirked before Dru garnered his attention again and the night passed normally. Or, for what passed for normal lately, what with living with four vampires.  
  
Willow still had a bounce in her step when she turned in for the day, though getting woken up by Angel before dusk wasn't what she'd been expecting.  
  
For a moment she just stared at the cell phone Angel held out to her, then she took it and put it to her ear. Wesley apologized profusely for waking her, then went on to say that he wouldn't be able to get any useful information any time soon.  
  
"The entry you asked me to focus on first," he explained, "comes from a rather rare text. The Hwopf Compendium. I'm working on obtaining a copy of it from some, er, sources, but it'll take time."  
  
"Oh. Well, I guess there's nothing we can do about that," she said with a shrug. "In the meantime, can you--"  
  
"We're already working on some of the other entries," Wesley assured her. "Again, I don't think I'll be calling in a few hours with the answers."  
  
Of course not. Why should anything about any of this come quickly? Once again Wesley promised to keep her updated, leaving Willow to chew her lip and consider their options. Sure, they could wait around while Wesley looked into everything. But that took time, and they weren't even sure if the attack on Dev had had anything to do with the Analects. Could be they were just wasting time with that avenue of investigation.  
  
Trouble was, they didn't have any other avenues to explore. Willow wandered into the bathroom to shower, her thoughts racing as she washed her hair. From what Spike and Angel had told her, Dev hadn't been very forthcoming about anything in her life. For all they knew, some scorned lover was at the heart of the matter.  
  
Willow's hands stilled in the process of threading conditioner through her hair. They needed Dev. Conscious and talking. A lot sooner than a few weeks from now. She'd be able to suggest other options for them to look into, if not actually come out and tell them who'd done this to her.  
  
She spent the rest of her shower figuring out how to get that accomplished.  
  
***  
  
Recent events had the effect of making Spike several shades of irritable. Dev had always maintained that inaction was intolerable to him when something was on his mind. "You've got to be fucking or fighting," she'd laughed. "Can't just sit down and think about anything."  
  
Considering that she'd been completely correct in her assessment, it wasn't surprising that he picked a fight with Angel a couple of nights later.  
  
It started as a silly argument and quickly spun out of control. Angel dragged him into the kitchen and threw open the basement door. Spike got a glimpse of Willow's tight face before Angel tossed him down the concrete steps.  
  
It hurt every time he knocked against the cement, and when he finally came to a stop, the pain continued by way of Angel's foot landing a kick to his ribs. Something cracked.  
  
Spike stared up at Angel blankly, and the other vampire paused in the middle of another kick, this one aimed at his face. The anger in Angel's eyes faded away to a glittering nothingness.  
  
"No," he hissed disgustedly and lowered his foot. The light from the kitchen blinded Spike when Angel retreated up the steps.  
  
He stayed where he was, concertedly not thinking about what had and hadn't just happened, or why. The light was blocked again. Hesitant footfalls on the steps. Backlit red surrounding shadows.  
  
Willow stopped a few steps above his inelegant sprawl and sat. "Rah-rah-sis- boom-bah," she deadpanned.  
  
Spike snorted and pushed himself into a sitting position. "Go team go," he returned dryly.  
  
"You know, I feel a kinship with those National Geographic guys, now," Willow mused, and Spike heard the bit of humor that tinged her words. "Cohabitating with vampires and learning all sorts of nifty things about them that I never knew." She tilted her head. "Maybe I should write an anonymous account of it all and send it to the Watchers. Shed new light on an old favorite."  
  
"I doubt they'd be interested unless you were passing on new ways to kill us," he sighed. He ran a hand over his face and tried to get his head in order. "So what did this--" He gestured at himself. "--teach you that you never knew before?"  
  
Willow shrugged and leaned forward, propping her elbows on her knees and then resting her chin in her hands. "I don't even know what this--" She echoed his own gesture "--was, so I can't say."  
  
"Yeah, well, you're not alone in that."  
  
"Wanna go out?"  
  
Spike started, then stared at her. "What?"  
  
She chuckled. "Out. As in, some place other than this house," she teased him. "I'm getting a little claustrophobic," she admitted. "Since I'm not allowed to go anywhere alone, I'm choosing you as the lesser of three evils."  
  
Which was saying a lot, considering what had occurred on their last outing. He'd have thought she'd stay in the house for the rest of her life before willingly going anywhere with him alone again.  
  
"I put Angel in a mood, did I?" Spike asked knowingly, and Willow nodded emphatically. "And you still don't trust Dru."  
  
She surprised him by denying that. "I know that she won't knowingly hurt me," Willow countered slowly. "I think it's more probable that she'll decide to go on a murder spree, and I don't have your or Angel's knack for keeping her under control."  
  
Spike was interested. Getting out of the soddin' house would probably do him good. "What did you have in mind?" he asked cautiously, crossing his fingers that she wouldn't suggest anything that involved him listening to talentless losers singing.  
  
Some hint of his suspicions must have been on his face, because an impish light appeared in Willow's eyes. "Well, I was thinking of karaoke." She grinned at Spike's shudder. "Pool, then?"  
  
A brow lifted dubiously. "Can you even play pool?"  
  
"Not even a little," she chirped.  
  
The lack of concern in her voice and the enthusiasm in her eyes made his lips twitch for some odd reason. He hauled himself to his feet and stared down at her. "Nothing better going on," he said diffidently. "Might as well."  
  
Willow got to her feet, just two steps above him, and it put her neck at his eye level. Her throat was bared by the v-necked orange shirt that she wore and Spike found that he was staring.  
  
"Never thought I'd *prefer* a man to be staring at my breasts," she drawled sarcastically.  
  
It was like telling someone not to think of pink elephants, wasn't it? Spike was suddenly focused on her breasts without having made the decision to do so. The soft material of her shirt made her breasts look vine- ripened, the tightness of it drawing attention to them and inviting a touch, or a lick, but just begging for a bite.  
  
She went still, her muscles locking up and her breath catching at the same moment that her heart paused for one dramatic second...and there was nothing to distract Spike from the sound of blood rushing under her skin, and the moment seemed to linger around them, ticking by like an eon while Spike practically drowned.  
  
Then Willow sucked in a breath and even the swelling tide that lifted her chest for further inspection--even that wasn't enough to prevent the eon from ending, because her heart was racing now, and she was fidgeting nervously while she stumbled up a step backwards.  
  
"Um, I didn't mean--and if--you didn't--I'm going upstairs now," she choked out, turning away and dashing up the steps.  
  
Spike grabbed hold of the flimsy wooden railing with one hand and braced the other on the wall next to him. "Bloody fuck," he hissed.  
  
He was in serious trouble here. Because right then the only thing he wanted to do was give chase after his prey, pin her to the most convenient horizontal--hell, or even vertical--surface, and go to town. And it was the first time he'd even remotely thought of Willow sexually.  
  
With an angry growl, Spike stood up straight and let go of the railing and wall. No. Absolutely not. He was just horny, was all. He'd been so ever since the family had unanimously gone platonic. Add to that what he'd been expecting to happen after Angel threw him down the stairs...hell, even the damn Slayer would have elicited that reaction at that particular moment.  
  
All right. Good. He forced himself to relax and when the urge to pursue Willow had eased, he made his way up to the kitchen. Angel was leaning against a counter, hands tucked into his pockets and a considering expression on his face.  
  
"You obviously don't want my advice on whatever's got your head all screwed up," he said bluntly, and Spike froze. "Fine. But you are damned well going to at least tell me what it is, and soon. It's making you unpredictable and rash." A smile ghosted across his lips. "And, next time? Just tell me you're in the mood for a fight; this kind of drama is for fledglings."  
  
Spike laughed and scratched the back of his neck. "Right."  
  
"I'm ready," Willow said as she walked into the room, still wearing the same shirt. Spike grinned, and her eyes glittered defiantly. The grin slid into a smirk.  
  
"I'm not going to ask you two to check in every half hour," Angel began, "but I want you back here before three. Understood?"  
  
Spike rolled his eyes while Willow nodded sedately.  
  
"And that means both of you," Angel continued firmly, staring at Willow. She lowered her eyes and flushed. "Willow, listen to Spike about cautionary measures. Don't second guess or argue with him."  
  
"Hey!" she sputtered. "Why does he get to be in charge?"  
  
"Because he's got preternatural strength and senses," Angel snapped. He pointed one finger at her, and Spike stifled a snicker. "That's exactly the kind of thing that I'm talking about. You convinced me to let you two go out, and you'll adhere to the rules."  
  
Spike's brows flew up. Convinced? Yeah, probably Angel hadn't been too keen on them being out unsupervised again.  
  
Willow tightened her lips but finally nodded at Angel's directive. His eyes swung to Spike. "She's going to be your impulse control tonight."  
  
"What?" Spike shouted. "I don't need some little girl telling me what I can or can not do. I'm over a century old and I'm perfectly capable of--"  
  
"Acting rationally?" Angel finished sarcastically, looking meaningfully at the basement door. Spike ground his teeth together. Bloody Hell. "Her words are mine tonight, unless your safety is at issue."  
  
"Fine. Whatever," he hissed.  
  
Willow's hand raised into the air and Spike clenched his hands into fists.  
  
"Um, will one of you translate, please?" she ventured hesitantly, her brow wrinkled.  
  
Angel kept his eyes on Spike as he answered her. "Keep him from doing anything stupid."  
  
The temptation to pitch a fit was strong, but Spike figured that wasn't going to help his case any. So he curled his lip at Angel and folded his arms across his chest.  
  
Willow's face cleared. "Oh." The frown returned. "How?"  
  
"Tell him to shut up or stop as needed," Angel explained, finally looking away from Spike.  
  
"Yeah, right, cause that'll work," Willow scoffed.  
  
"He has to answer to me if it doesn't."  
  
She appeared to process that for a moment, then her eyes grew round and she looked from Angel, to Spike, then at the floor. "Might as well stay in now," she mumbled. "He's gonna be nasty to me all night."  
  
Angel looked like he wanted to beat one or both of them right then. "I don't care what you decide," he all but growled. "But those are the rules. Maybe if the two of you had been able to take a simple walk without an incident then this wouldn't be necessary, but you couldn't. So stop complaining and deal with it."  
  
With that, he stormed out of the room.  
  
"Giles is much better at chastising," Willow said stiffly.  
  
"Yeah," Spike agreed, "but Angel is lot better at violence."  
  
***  
  
From the upstairs window, Angel watched as Willow and Spike made their way down the walk to the van and drove away.  
  
"My Angel worries so," Drusilla murmured next to him. "As well he should. They're bookends, aren't they. Which one will topple to the floor and break?"  
  
"Let's hope neither of them," Angel replied, taking her arm and leading her back to Dev's side. "Sit with her, Dru."  
  
He wandered downstairs and stood in the doorway of the living room. It was Willow and Spike terrain, undeniably. Her laptop had taken up permanent residence on the coffee table, and several pairs of her discarded socks were scattered on the couch; she hated walking around barefoot, but once she was sitting she always stripped the socks from her feet, he'd noticed.  
  
On the table next to Spike's usual chair was an ashtray filled almost to capacity, and a dismantled lamp--Spike claimed it was too bright for his eyes, but someone had kept turning it on, so he'd torn the thing apart. There were also several cigarette burns on the carpet in front of the chair that had caused Willow to completely write off their security deposit.  
  
In the middle of the floor sat a Cribbage board, a deck of cards, and a bowl of pennies. The latter was because Spike had insisted to Willow that playing Cribbage without betting was akin to sacrilege. They'd played their first game earlier and Spike had wiped the floor with her.  
  
The house was eerily silent without them, and while Angel was grateful for that, he was also troubled at their absence because he didn't know just what might happen tonight.  
  
The tension that had developed between Spike and Willow after their "walk" had dissipated. Not that he had any idea about what had happened that night. Willow had been guarded when she'd returned only half an hour after she'd left. She'd also been distracted in an odd way. Not like there were other things on her mind, but like there was nothing on her mind and she wanted to keep it that way.  
  
And Spike hadn't been forthcoming either. Angel had taken one look at him and known that nothing short of serious violence would pull it out of Spike. He'd considered it for a moment, then decided that it wouldn't be wise to take things to that extreme.  
  
It had made him hesitant to allow them to venture out again, but he'd noted that since the incident, the two were looking at one another more directly, with fewer misconceptions in their eyes. Harder, more telling looks that packed less punches than they ever had before. Quite possibly it signaled the first step to them stripping away their one-dimensional personas.  
  
He still hadn't decided whether that would be a good or horrendous thing, and obviously the stars weren't telling Dru, either, if her "bookends" comment was anything to go by.  
  
Angel fidgeted and went back upstairs. Did they even realize that they were spending almost every moment of their free time together?  
  
He could count on one hand the number of conversations he and Willow, and he and Spike, had had since arriving at the house. He'd need about eight more hands to count the ones between Willow and Spike, though. As for Dru, she tended to join Angel during his shift with Dev, do her own shift, then sleep before joining him again. Every once in a while she'd switch it up, but rarely. Spike obviously wasn't spending much time with her, and probably didn't even notice.  
  
"Should I have told him what I did?" Dru whispered shakily to him when he entered Dev's room again. She was lying next to Dev, her hands buried in their childe's hair and her eyes uneasy.  
  
Angel shrugged and took off his belt before climbing into bed on the other side of Dev. "Depends. What did you tell him?"  
  
"She was itchy in her skin," Dru said smally. "Poor precious. So ignorant of what's inside her that she'd rip herself open just to know. I told him not to foreswear her. Told him he mustn't do so. But now I'm not sure. Nothing will stay still."  
  
Her eyes met his and he sighed, reaching across Dev to cup her cheek in his palm. "They don't know themselves, Drusilla," he said softly as she nuzzled his hand. "Makes it impossible to glean anything beyond the here and now."  
  
"Yet they each know the other," she mused, frowning delicately.  
  
"I wouldn't be too sure about that."  
  
Dru nodded. "Oh, but they do, dearest Angel. They do. And that's what frightens them."  
  
***  
  
Her pool skills were so horrendous that Spike had almost choked on his tongue during her first shot, where she came only a quarter of an inch away from ripping felt from the table. So the pool cue had been removed from her hands and shoved at some git or other who was waiting for a turn.  
  
"Game's on us," Spike had told him, dragging Willow into the bar area of the tavern they were at.  
  
"I'm really that bad?" Willow asked, nose scrunched up in disbelief.  
  
"Worse," Spike confirmed, waving the waitress over. Willow got an iced tea, and he asked for two beers.  
  
She looked pointedly the beers, but didn't say anything, which instantly roused his suspicions. Spike narrowed his eyes and brought his cigarette to his lips, studying her as she dumped five sugars into her tea. There wouldn't have been time for her to convince Angel to let them go out after she'd fled the basement. She had to have done it before that, and had mislead him into thinking otherwise. And she hadn't changed her mind about going out with him despite the scene with Angel, what had happened in the basement, or the rules Angel had imposed.  
  
"You want to do something, don't you?" he guessed.  
  
Her brows knitted. "Um, yeah. Hence the doing."  
  
Cutting a hand through the air, he leaned back and shook his head. "Pet, I've been dealing with vampire politics about four times longer than you've been alive," he stated. "Just come out with it, will you?"  
  
A burst of red exploded across her face. "I didn't even start yet," she mumbled.  
  
He smirked. "So you want me to back you on something, do you? Go on, let's hear it."  
  
She was suddenly very busy stirring her tea into submission. "I was thinking that I could maybe lower my shield, and convince Dev to put hers up again. Then, maybe try to track the leeches on Dev back to whoever--"  
  
"No." She opened her mouth and Spike continued before she could say anything. "And don't even waste your breath on another word because it's too dangerous. All you could end up doing is leading them right back to us."  
  
"But you said yourself that you're tired of not doing anything," Willow argued stubbornly. "And this would be doing something."  
  
Spike barked out a laugh of disbelief. "I'm all for jumping in headfirst, yeah, but even I understand that we still have no bleedin' idea what's going on, not mention who or what's behind it."  
  
"I could make it one way," she insisted, leaning forward. "They wouldn't be able--"  
  
"Are you one-hundred percent positive they couldn't track it back?" he cut in, knowing what the answer would be.  
  
Her eyes flickered uncomfortably. "No," she admitted, "but--"  
  
'No," Spike snapped, sipping his beer. "And don't think Angel's answer will be any different."  
  
She tossed her spoon onto the table with a clatter and glared at him. "Then why am I even here?" she exploded. "To vacuum?"  
  
"You're here because of Dru's vision," he reminded her irritably. "You got those bastards off our tail and now Dev can heal."  
  
"So you're saying that we continue to do nothing."  
  
"We wait," Spike said succinctly. "And we hope that moron comes up with something soon."  
  
"And if he doesn't?" Willow asked disgustedly. "If he can't get anything useful out of the information from the database, then we just spend the next month twiddling our thumbs until Dev wakes up?"  
  
"Lay off, already," Spike hissed. "You're not the only one who isn't exactly in love with the situation; just the only one whining about it."  
  
Her chin set and Spike closed his eyes, begging for patience. "Spike, I'm sure that I--"  
  
His hand slammed down on the table and their drinks rattled and tipped precariously. "I said no," he shouted.  
  
Willow slunk back in her seat and sighed miserably. "What about the healing spell?" she asked sarcastically. "Or is that something else we shouldn't do since it might help."  
  
"I'd back you on that, but not the other."  
  
"Good. That's settled then," she said quietly.  
  
Spike blinked and learned forward. Her head was ducked and--was she smiling? She was.  
  
"You little shit," he breathed.  
  
"I have no idea what you mean," Willow said smoothly, but her smile was getting wider.  
  
"You tossed up a smoke screen," he accused. "Started with something stupid so that I'd agree to what you really wanted to do. Damn, why didn't I see that?"  
  
Willow took a sip of her tea and regarded him with laughing eyes. "Well, hypothetically, that would be because you decided before we had the conversation that I sucked at this."  
  
"Yeah," he laughed, crushing out his cigarette and staring at her.  
  
Her index finger traveled the rim of her glass. "Would it work on Angel?"  
  
"Hypothetically?" he mocked, and she nodded. "No. But we might have a shot if we just propose the healing spell. As long as you can convince him there won't be any danger of us getting tracked."  
  
"There won't be," she said with certainty. "That, I'm positive about. Completely."  
  
He finished his beer and started on his second. "Okay, let's talk strategy then."  
  
***  
  
Angel spent an hour listening to Willow and Spike. Actually, Spike had only spoken for five of the sixty minutes, and had mainly just reminded Angel of how much time had passed, and how little progress they'd made. For the other fifty-five minutes, Angel had listened to Willow show off debating skills gained during her discussions with Spike as she laid out why she should do the healing spell on Dev.  
  
He now had a new reason to not want them going anywhere together alone; they had ganged up on him.  
  
Willow was still talking, standing in the center of the room with index cards--and Spike had really gotten a kick out of those--and putting everything she had into convincing Angel. Spike was sprawled on his chair, Dru on the floor beside him with her head resting on his thigh.  
  
Angel stood in the doorway and wondered just when he'd lost control of the pair, then decided that he'd never really had control of them to begin with.  
  
"Stop," Angel said, holding up a hand. Willow's mouth snapped shut. "Your presentation was impressive," he commented dryly and she beamed. "You think the results will be different this time?"  
  
She nodded. "The only reason there was a problem last time was because she was protecting herself. I can slide under my shield and do it without a problem."  
  
Knowing that she'd probably suggested this to Spike the night before last, when they'd gone out, and that Spike would have had more time to think on it, Angel turned to him. "And the risks?"  
  
Spike shrugged. "Worst case: same thing happens. Big deal. But you're on puke duty."  
  
Angel ignored the comment and turned to the other occupant of the room. "Dru?"  
  
She lifted her head from Spike's knee and blinked lazily. "Our Devil has slept long enough," she told him. "Her mind is beginning to grow restless."  
  
Angel's eyes narrowed. "Have you tried getting in again?"  
  
"I couldn't," Dru replied with a pout in Willow's direction. "Precious' magic is too strong for me."  
  
"I went ahead and called Wesley," Willow interjected, rifling through her cards. "He says that according to his--"  
  
"Stop," Angel said again, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck. "We'll do it."  
  
***  
  
Willow was able to push and prod Angel into letting her perform the healing spell that night, and though she knew it had worked, there wouldn't be an immediate change in Dev's condition.  
  
After washing the ointment from herself, Willow changed into her pajamas and wandered downstairs. Spike was in the living room already, and looked up when she came in. Willow fought against a blush with all her might. Spike seemed to have forgotten about what had happened in the basement. And thank god for small favors, because if he actually starting talking about it, or teasing her about it, or referring to it at all, she might just die of embarrassment.  
  
She chose to pretend that it had never happened. Yet she still felt like it was there between them now. On her part, at any rate. Sure, the lighting had been bad, but she had mostly seen the look in his eyes when he'd been staring at her chest. It had been...hot. Hotter than any other set of eyes that had looked at her. Hot enough to make her forget--just for an instant-- that he was Spike and she was Willow. To her mind, that was one instant too many.  
  
A voice in the back of her head thought it was hysterical. Because those pseudo-lusty glances she'd tossed his way when they'd played their game in Giles' living room? Not so pseudo. And there'd been an actual reason she'd gotten so upset when he'd turned on them that night and left Sunnydale, and it hadn't been simply because she'd hoped he wouldn't eventually chafe at the blackmail. But, hey, she was ignoring it all.  
  
That didn't stop her from noticing things though. Like the fact that he was currently sprawled on the couch in an artful pose that she knew was half- purposeful and half-negligent. The purposeful part wasn't anything to do with her, she knew. That was just Spike. Sensual creature of the night to the end, able to make watching television seem like something out of one of those "For Mature Audiences Only" movies on Cinemax.  
  
He was probably only partially aware of how the position stretched the material of his shirt across his chest, and how his cocked knee drew the eye to a rather...intimate portion of his anatomy. Willow was more than partially aware though.  
  
"Not looking so hot," Spike commented, frowning.  
  
And this time she did blush, because of course he would comment on how drab and icky looking she was at the exact moment when she'd been eyeing him up like a piece of chocolate.  
  
But she stuck stringently to her path: ignore everything.  
  
"I'm just tired," Willow said around a yawn. "Why are you sitting on the sofa?"  
  
"Spilled my dinner all over the damn chair," he groused. Willow looked at the cushion, but didn't see any sign of blood. "I flipped it over, and I don't want to hear any more mamby-pamby complaining about the security deposit," he growled. "You're living with vampires."  
  
"Fine, fine," she conceded, sighing hugely. "It's just my credit rating that gets slammed. Nothing major or anything." Spike made an obscene gesture with his hand and she rolled her eyes. "Make some room on the couch, would you?"  
  
Grumbling, he pulled himself into a sitting position and swung his legs around. "Just put your damn socks over there with the others." He pointed to the side of the sofa where a pile of footwear sat. "They were starting to get ripe."  
  
Ignoring him, Willow sat on the opposite end of the sofa and stripped the socks from her feet, dutifully dropping them with the others when Spike stared pointedly at her. At least he made it easy to be distracted by his annoying personality.  
  
"Can we not have any discussions tonight?" Willow requested, watching him narrow his eyes. "I'm so not up to it."  
  
"You always this tired?" Spike asked with surprise.  
  
"Huh? No, but casting the spell while keeping the shield up...not so easy," she informed him with a shrug.  
  
"Not just talking about tonight, Willow," he said, flipping the channel.  
  
"Stress, I think," Willow dismissed. "I mean, the stress in Sunnydale? Way higher on the spectrum, but much more short-lived."  
  
"Well, you're in luck then." She frowned, knowing by now what that careful tone of voice meant--one jerky comment coming up. "Listened to you blabber on enough for one night. Sent us all catatonic earlier."  
  
And, really, that was rather tame, all things considered, so Willow shrugged and turned away so that he wouldn't see her smile. "Got the job done, didn't I? Now pick something to watch already." She tilted her head. "Preferably something fluffy and stupid."  
  
She got what she asked for. In spades. Though she was tempted to complain when Spike came across some old Cheech and Chong movie and left it on, technically she had asked for it. Then she discovered that she was so tired that only every tenth line of dialogue seemed to register, and she grinned at having denied Spike the pleasure of irritating her.  
  
She didn't remember falling sleep, just waking up. With her head on Spike's thigh. He was laughing uproariously, and no doubt his shaking form had woken her. She should move. Sit up and scoot away as she'd done the other times she'd woken up on him. But she didn't.  
  
His thigh was solid under her head. It was reassuring to her, that strength. Right now, she had nothing to fear from. She needed this, she realized sleepily. Needed to be able to relax knowing that someone else would keep her safe, knowing that she could entirely let go of every single guard and not get killed for it.  
  
When was the last time she'd felt this at ease? Not since she was sixteen. And unlike the scene in the basement, she couldn't even think it strange that it was Spike--who had been a source of terror for her too many times to count--that was making her feel this way. Because due to the terms of the situation they were in, he would die for her. Die to keep her safe. Only, he wouldn't have to die. He was too strong, too capable--even with his impatience--to get taken out easily.  
  
That knowledge took away the need to be on guard and didn't bring with it any guilt. He could take care of himself and of her and she didn't have to worry. Her eyes drifted shut again.  
  
***  
  
Spike felt the redhead slip back into sleep, and looked down: her head was on his lap and one of her small hands was gripping his knee. It had surprised him that she hadn't tensed and moved back to her side of the couch when she'd briefly woken up. Instead, she'd seemed to relax even further and she'd actually rubbed her fingers against his knee, almost like she'd been reassuring herself that he was indeed still there.  
  
With every day that passed, he began to wonder if that last lesson had been necessary. Because he didn't think that he'd be going after her once this was over, and not because he had the feeling she might very well kick his ass if he did. No, the simple fact of the matter was that he just didn't want to hurt her.  
  
His hand settled on her hair and he tangled his fingers through it. If it had been anyone else from the Slayer's crew who'd been there with them, he wouldn't have felt that way. He thought it would take a bloody miracle for him to not want to torture Xander just for the unholy fun of it, because the git just rubbed him wrong in every way. Same for the others.  
  
Well, okay, not the Slayer herself. He was all for fighting her, but he really didn't want her dead. Who the hell knew what kind of Slayer that Faith bitch was. Least he and Buffy had the mutual respect and letting-the- other-live thing going on. Even if it was only because they'd both pretty much realized that as far as killing each other went, they'd come to a stalemate.  
  
He wanted to say it was only because Willow had gotten pulled into their family act, but that wasn't all of it. Neither was the fact that he liked her; he'd turned on plenty of people he liked out of necessity.  
  
No, there was more to it than that, and what he more was...well, he didn't think that needed to be added to the rest of the crap that was rolling around in his head.  
  
"Spike."  
  
Angel was behind the armchair, watching him with narrowed eyes. Fuck. He snatched his hand from Willow's head and raised a brow. "Yeah?"  
  
"Time for that talk."  
  
Spike hesitated for a moment, his eyes flickering to Willow for just an instant before he set his jaw and stood up, sending her tumbling to the floor. She screamed when she landed, then rolled to her feet and stared around the room in a terror so absolute that Spike thought he might be sick.  
  
"It's okay, Willow," Angel said quietly, moving slowly towards her and holding up his hands reassuringly. "You just fell off the couch."  
  
Her wild eyes fixed on the couch, then moved to Spike, a frown creasing her brow. "I fell?" she echoed, her hands trembling. "But Spike was there..." His stomach clenched again when her face cleared and realization slid into her gaze. "Oh," she said quietly, moving her eyes away from him.  
  
Spike felt Angel staring at him, but he couldn't seem to look away from Willow's bent head. Then Angel crossed to Willow and touched her chin with two fingers, lifting her head. Her hair obscured Spike's view of her face, but he saw Angel scrutinizing her, saw surprise twist Angel's features up, then watched as every bit of emotion was swept away.  
  
"Willow," he whispered, and she shoved his hand away from her face and shook her head.  
  
"I'm going to bed," she croaked, and hurried out of the room.  
  
"Sit down," Angel growled. Spike started and peeled his eyes away from the staircase Willow had just run up. Angel was glaring at him furiously. "Now."  
  
Spike sat.  
  
"I'm done dancing around, Spike," Angel hissed. "Tell me what the hell has been going on with you, and start with why you let Buffy blackmail you."  
  
"Giles, actually," Spike said wearily, rubbing a hand across his face. "It was Giles who did it." There was a growl, and Spike held up an appeasing hand. "I know better than to push you right now, don't I? I was all in fits, trying to kill the Slayer, right? They got annoyed and threatened me with a soul. What could I do?"  
  
Angel glowered at him and then leaned down and grabbed his shirtfront, pulling Spike to his feet. "Who are you trying to fool?" he snarled. "There were a dozen ways out of that situation, and I know for a fact that you didn't try even a single one before submitting." His grip tightened, and Spike was off his feet. "Why?"  
  
"What the hell else would I have done?" Spike shouted, struggling away.  
  
There was a long, tense silence, and then Angel sighed tiredly and sank onto the sofa. "You were in San Francisco," he said eventually. "In control of the city. Why'd you head back to Sunnydale?"  
  
With a shrug, Spike gave him the simplest answer he could. "Got bored."  
  
Angel's eyes widened. "You got bored."  
  
"Yeah, you know me," he said dryly, looking away. "Attention span of a ferret after a double shot of espresso."  
  
"And why did you choose to go to Sunnydale?" Angel asked patiently, something in his voice causing Spike to look up. The souled vampire's face was considering, and Spike knew he was hearing everything that wasn't being said.  
  
Spike laughed bitterly. Oh, he remembered this. Remembered how Angelus could always read between lines that weren't even there. Bloody hell, it was annoying. But good, too, since he wouldn't have to be all heart- pouring. "Figured killing a Slayer was just what I needed," he replied, and a knowing look passed across Angel's face.  
  
"If you'd succeeded," Angel ventured, "*would* it have been what you needed?"  
  
There was no thought required to answer that one. He'd realized the truth of it a while ago. "Nah."  
  
"Any idea what would have been what you needed?"  
  
"That's the question, isn't it?" Spike said thoughtfully. "Do I pick door number one: find a latter-day gypsy bint and follow in your footsteps? Or do I go for door number two: find a really big rock to make all my friends jealous and follow in your footsteps?"  
  
Leaning back into the sofa, Angel twisted his lips. "Maybe you should find another role model."  
  
"Probably," Spike agreed readily. "But my options are rather limited, aren't they? Let's see...could take after that Kool-Aid mouthed sire of Darla's, couldn't I? Or Darla herself? Maybe Drusilla--"  
  
"I get it," Angel interrupted. "When the hell did this start, Spike?"  
  
"Dunno. Most likely when the chip was in," he admitted. "Thought everything would be the same when it was gone." He frowned. "Nothing was, though."  
  
"I told you I wouldn't give you advice," Angel finally said, "and I won't. Truth is, I don't even know what I would tell you. The patriarch has some suggestions, and...Peaches," he rolled his eyes and Spike snorted, "has some as well. Not sure any of them is right."  
  
"Yeah, well, at this point? I'm not sure I wouldn't tell you to shove it, either way," Spike confessed. "Dev is going to be back on her feet soon, and this little reality-vacation is going to end. Don't know where I'll go from there."  
  
Angel gave him a sad look and Spike had to turn away again. Pity from the poof? Un-bloody-acceptable. "Bugger off," he hissed, and stormed out of the room.  
  
*** 


	11. Part 11

Willow resolved to be smarter the next night when it came to Spike. It seemed that every time she relaxed around him, he threw her for a loop. She considered avoiding the living room all together, but decided that she absolutely refused to alter her routine in deference to his attitude.  
  
She had a fair idea of why he'd dumped her off the sofa, and while she understood it on a certain level, she was still angered and hurt by it. She had thought they'd come to a point where the behavior of old had switched over to something...new. Where they weren't the vampire and the Slayer's friend, but Spike and Willow--vampire and adopted little sister of Aurelis.  
  
With her resolve in place, Willow took up residence on the armchair when she made her way downstairs. Spike was situated on the sofa, and she pointedly ignored him as she tried to get comfortable. Which wasn't very easy, as she'd become accustomed to stretching out on the couch. But she did her best, and eventually was situated sideways on the cushy chair, her back against one padded arm, and her legs draped over the other.  
  
The silence was more than a little tense. It was tense to about the eight millionth degree. This time, though, Spike was the one who seemed to be uncomfortable with it. Knowing she was in the right, Willow determinedly watched the infomercial that was on. It had something to do with storage bags, and she didn't understand why Spike was leaving it on, but she kept her mouth shut and watched.  
  
Focusing on the inane host got more difficult as the minutes past. After the adrenaline rush that had accompanied her fall to the floor last night, she had been so wired that it had taken hours to fall asleep, but her stupid internal clock had forced her body awake at dusk anyway. Despite that she'd only been up for about an hour, Willow fell asleep on the chair. When something woke her, however, she was more than a little surprised at where she found herself.  
  
"Spike?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Uh, how'd I get on the sofa?" she asked uncertainly, her jaw moving against his thigh as she spoke.  
  
"I moved you," he said simply.  
  
Willow frowned. "Oh," she replied, then, "Why?"  
  
There was no answer forthcoming, but Willow realized that she didn't need one. Spike didn't make with words generally, and never with apologies. He said everything with actions, and he'd just apologized to her.  
  
"Go back to sleep, luv."  
  
Willow smiled softly. "Okay."  
  
***  
  
Things went more smoothly than Angel could have hoped for over the next couple of days. Willow and Spike's discussions still occurred, but they were more light-hearted now. No longer did they stomp away angry, but parted ways with smirks and rolling eyes.  
  
Willow's laughter often sounded through the house and Spike smiled more freely now. Real smiles, not smirks, that Angel had only seen bestowed on a selected few.  
  
But there was more between the two of them than they wanted to admit. He'd seen the truth of that in Willow's pained gaze after Spike had shoved her to the floor. He'd even seen it in Spike's tight features when Willow had fled upstairs.  
  
Then there was the touching. A new and surprising turn of events. They always shared the sofa now, and Willow was forever lying on Spike in some way--her head or feet resting on his lap while he absently pet her. Angel knew it had initially begun with Spike making up for his, well, Spike Behavior, but he doubted either of them had examined too closely why it had continued.  
  
Dru seemed troubled and hopeful by it all, as did Angel. But they agreed that the only thing they could do was wait and see, and hopefully help with the clean up should things go as badly as they could.  
  
***  
  
Willow woke up gasping for breath, her heart pounding from a nightmare. It had been filled with vague terrifying and painful sensations. There may have been images, but Willow's mind saw fit to strip the memory from her conscious brain, and she was grateful.  
  
It was the fifth night in a row, and as she slid out of bed on trembling knees to change her sweaty clothes and sheets, she began to think something was going on. She'd told Spike that stress had been causing her fatigue, but now she didn't think that was the case. There wasn't much stress in the house when Spike wasn't trying to impart lessons in his own imitable way. In fact, it was rather...nice.  
  
So what was with the nightmares?  
  
The only answer she could come up with was that it had to do with the shield. But she wasn't sure if her body was just taxed by the sharing of her magic, or if something nefarious was going on. She was voting for nefarious, mainly because it was what she was used to. When she thought about it, though, she had another reason to think that. In her nightmares-- she hadn't been herself. She'd been someone else. And she thought the "someone else" she'd been was Dev.  
  
It was possible that she was picking up on Dev's fears via the shield. But it was also possible that the bad guys had found a way to somehow attack Willow's shield.  
  
That was troubling, since Dev was under that shield and completely vulnerable. Sighing, Willow took several books from her trunk, then traversed downstairs to her laptop. As sunset approached, Willow shut down the computer and brought the books upstairs. At the top landing she bit her lip and frowned at Dev's door, then found herself opening it and peeking inside.  
  
Dev's injuries had begun healing by leaps and bounds, and Angel had estimated last night that it would be only a week until she was whole again. He'd told her that quietly, eyes unashamedly filled with tears as he stared at her.  
  
Spike was lying on his back on the bed, Dev pulled into the crook of his arm. His eyes flew open as soon as the door opened, and he growled menacingly before he registered that it was Willow at the door. She smiled distractedly, staring at the aperture in Dev's abdomen, which had closed so much that it was now only two inches in diameter.  
  
"What's up, pet?" Spike asked, frowning at her. "Everything all right?"  
  
"Just wanted to check in," Willow mumbled. "How's she doing?"  
  
He smiled, and his eyes lit up brightly. "Doing good, thanks to you."  
  
Willow saw only those eyes, shining and happy, and in her mind she saw Angel's eyes, wet with unshed tears, and imagined Dru's eyes filled with sanity as Spike had told her had happened.  
  
"Um, good," she said quietly. "I'm just going to...just...bye."  
  
She fled, Spike calling after her, and hid in her room. Besides the conscious vampires, there was also a promise she'd made to Dev in a motel room.  
  
Trembling slightly, Willow lit several candles. She wasn't sure if she'd be able to do this without having physical contact with Dev, but she didn't have a choice in the matter. If Angel and the others knew that the baddies had found a way to attack the shield without knowing who Willow was, if they knew what she was about to attempt to do to keep Dev safe from it, then they'd tie her up and lock her away to keep her from trying.  
  
She sat in the center of the room, focusing her energy, her magic, her power and bending it to her will. She cut the cord between herself and Dev, effectively dividing her magic in two parts. But not equal parts. She gave more to Dev than she did to herself.  
  
Once the division was completed, Willow focused on Dev and then followed a line of connection to Dru, who was sitting quietly while Angel read to her in the third bedroom. Drusilla felt the tug, but Willow gently shushed the vampire and withdrew a small amount of Dru and put it aside. She did the same with Spike and Angel, neither of whom noticed her at all. With Angel, she was careful to not take any portion that had her own signature on it.  
  
Willow combined all three energies and then sent them to Dev, wrapping it around her shield in a thin layer. As a protective measure against an attack, it was useless. But as a disguise...it was perfect. There wasn't anything Willow could do to prevent an attack, but she could damn well make sure the vampire didn't bear any brunt of it.  
  
When it was done, Willow slumped forward, breathing heavily and feeling her heart race out of control. She wanted to get up and snuff out the candles, but she just didn't have the energy. She wanted to look up at whoever had just come into her room, but even panic couldn't motivate her into movement.  
  
"You've been naughty, precious," she heard Dru murmur. "Our Angel won't be pleased."  
  
"Don't--don't--don't--tell anyone," Willow whispered. "Please, Dru."  
  
"Shhh," Dru cooed. Willow saw her settle next to her and then felt Dru's hands in her hair, rubbing her head and urging her closer. "We shall keep a secret, shall we? I'm very good at that." The candles were put out somehow, and then Drusilla had lifted Willow and set her on her bed. "Now, rest."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
***  
  
Willow wasn't sure what Dru had done, but Spike didn't come pounding on her door as soon as the sun had set, which was his normal routine. Willow owed her something big for that, because even though she'd slept for quite a few hours after Dru had tucked her in, she was barely awake. And that hung-over feeling was back in full force.  
  
She stumbled from her room and went to Dev's, hoping to find Drusilla in there and intending to ask her to do a little mojo, like she'd done in the motel shower while they'd been on the road. But Angel was in with Dev, and he frowned when he saw her.  
  
"You look awful," he commented, pressing a kiss to Dev's hair and then leaving the bed to stand in front of Willow. "What's wrong?"  
  
Willow stared at him uncomprehendingly for a moment. "Sick," she finally muttered. It was the best lie she could come up with and it wasn't altogether untruthful, either. "Dru?"  
  
"She and Spike went out," Angel replied. He took her arm and led her to the bed. Willow collapsed onto it and Angel crouched down in front of her. "Do you need anything? What should I get you?" he asked worriedly.  
  
In response, she yawned hugely and struggled to get her eyes open again. Angel gently pushed her back and then slid her under the covers. "Why don't you lay down and get some rest?" he said softly. "I'll be right here if you need anything."  
  
She could feel the nightmare in the back of her mind, waiting to come out, and she blindly grabbed at Angel's arm. He could have pulled out of her grip, but instead he let her draw him next to her on the bed.  
  
It wasn't the same as Spike, her sleepy mind decided as Angel lay next to her. She didn't feel as confident in Angel's ability to keep her safe for some reason. But having him there did allow her to let her guard down just enough that she was able to slide gently into sleep.  
  
***  
  
Spike opened the door to Dev's room, then stopped dead in his tracks and stared at the sight before him. Willow was on the bed, tucked in between Angel and Dev. She looked so...small next to Angel's bulk, and so fragile next to Dev's strength.  
  
Behind him, Drusilla sighed. She pressed against his back and wrapped her arms around his waist. "It's right," she said into his ear.  
  
"What is?" Spike asked harshly, still staring at the bed. Willow was on her side, facing Dev, and one of Angel's arms was curled around her waist; the other was under her head. "Her cozying up to Angel?"  
  
He felt Dru shake her head. "No. Her. She's right."  
  
That made no sense whatsoever, and Spike didn't really feel like prying sense out of Dru at the moment. He was too bothered by the scene on the bed. Willow sandwiched in between two vampires. Two souled vampires.  
  
He tried to leave the room, but Angel opened his eyes then. "She's not feeling well," he told Spike and Dru. "She was looking for Dru earlier and I thought she should stay in here in case she needed anything."  
  
Spike narrowed his eyes and took another look at Willow. There was a sheen of sweat all over her body, and her heart was racing. He could hear it from where he stood. Dru made a small sound of distress and released Spike, hurrying to the bed.  
  
She leaned across Angel and placed her hands on Willow's face. "Precious," she murmured, sounding upset.  
  
"What's wrong with her, luv?" Spike asked, striving to sound casual. Willow generally didn't get sick. A mild cold here and there, sure. But nothing that made her bed-bound. At least, not that he'd seen.  
  
Dru ignored him, caressing Willow's face once more before she moved to the other side of the bed and laid down on her side on the very edge. Then she reached for Dev and pulled her closer, positioning the unconscious vampire on her side as well, and cradling her gently.  
  
"Spike," Dru called. She gestured at the space that was now open between Dev and Willow, patting it and making it clear that she expected him to join them.  
  
"Drusilla," Angel began, but she hushed him. Their eyes met for a long while, and then Angel nodded. "Spike, get in bed."  
  
"Why?" he asked, frowning. "What's going on?"  
  
"Shut up and do it," Angel growled, shutting his eyes again.  
  
Spike inched his way to the bed, uncomfortable and unsure of what the hell was going on. Sure, the vampires had all shared beds often back in the day, but not often. It had generally been--his head snapped up. It had generally been when one of them had been injured. They'd done it for Dev, as well. Several times, actually, since they'd all reunited in Los Angeles. Even though Angel's double bed hadn't really been conducive to it. This king- sized bed, on the other hand...wait.  
  
"Willow's not a vampire," he reminded them all.  
  
Angel snorted and pointed at the open spot without even opening his eyes again. "I wasn't making a request," he said harshly.  
  
Spike rolled his eyes and kicked his books off, then shrugged out of the duster and let it fall. He unbuttoned the red shirt he was wearing, then finally made his way to the foot of the bed. It was an awkward climb, seeing as how he was trying to be careful of the injured Dev, and trying not to wake the sleeping Willow. Finally he was wedged in, but had to turn on his side in order to be comfortable at all. With a blank face, he turned to Dev, giving Willow his back.  
  
Dru's eyes shot daggers at him and he glared at her. Her arm was still stretched out so that she was touching Willow's hair, and he had no choice but to rest his head on her arm. He felt her muscles shifting under her skin as she apparently tangled her hand in Willow's hair.  
  
"Go to sleep," Angel ordered.  
  
Dru closed her eyes. Spike did the same, thinking that sleep was likely to take a while, but a few minutes later, Willow shifted away from Angel. She flung her arm around Spike's middle and pulled herself closer to him until her front was pressed against his back. A soft sigh tickled his ear and Spike relaxed.  
  
***  
  
Willow couldn't get out of the nightmare. She knew she was dreaming, knew she could wake herself up as she had the other times, but she was so tired that she couldn't make it happen. She was forced to endure the fear and terror, the pain and agony. Forced to see rabbit-quick flashes of razor blades and crosses coming at her.  
  
But then something happened. Something that she knew she had had no hand in whatsoever. The dream shifted. She suddenly found herself in a dark room. On a large and ostentatious bed. Soft candles flickered in sconces along the stone walls, and music played quietly in the background. It was disturbing. But not as disturbing as the fact that Spike was lying next to her. He was sprawled on his stomach with an arm and leg thrown over her.  
  
Willow almost squeaked with surprise, and tried to get free.  
  
"Precious."  
  
Freezing, Willow scanned the room with her eyes until they finally alit on Drusilla, who was standing in the center of the room, watching her with a small smile.  
  
"Uh, hi," Willow stammered. "What's going on? Where am I?"  
  
A frown pulled at Dru's features. "Poor precious was trapped somewhere bad."  
  
"A nightmare," Willow confirmed. "So how'd I get here?"  
  
"You didn't like the bad place," Dru went on, "so I tried to bring you some place you liked, a place where you could rest so that you don't get trapped in the bad place again. Somewhere you felt...safe."  
  
Willow's eyes skirted around again. "Oh. But I, uh, don't know this place."  
  
"I couldn't find your safe place," she mewled. "And I tried so many of them."  
  
"Yeah, well," Willow sighed. "I live over the Hellmouth, Dru. Even 'safe as houses' doesn't apply. Where are we?"  
  
A wide smile graced her features, and she moved forward, her eyes sliding between Spike and Willow. "I decided to share my safe place with you," she said helpfully, her eyes cagey. At the foot of the bed she came to a stop and tilted her head. "But you surprised me. It's your safe place too, but I didn't think to try it."  
  
Even in a dream Drusilla was impossible to decipher. "I don't know this place," Willow repeated with a frown. "And while I appreciate your sharing it," she went on uncomfortably, again trying to squirm away from the vampire next to her, "is it really necessary for Spike to be here?"  
  
Dru knelt on the edge of the bed and Willow saw the edges of her sight blur. The room changed. Not just once, but many times. Outside, inside; bedrooms, studies; daylight, moonlight; beds and floors. Through it all, only one thing remained consistent.  
  
"Spike is your safe place," Willow breathed, staring wide-eyed at Dru as her surroundings returned to the original room.  
  
"Once upon a time, he was," Dru confirmed, lowering her head and smiling softly. "He was my prince."  
  
Willow frowned. "Dru?" The vampire looked at her expectantly. "Why didn't you...take him back? In Brazil?"  
  
"I wanted to," Drusilla admitted in a small voice. "Wanted to be his princess again. But he wasn't the same." A distressed frown pulled at her features, and her hands tangled in her long skirt. "Only I am the same; everyone else becomes different." A pang of sympathy filled Willow. "Some things...some things are immutable," Dru breathed, her eyes far away. "I am immutable."  
  
And she was, Willow realized. Made unassailable by Angelus after he had fractured her mind for his own amusement. She would forever be this winsomely lovely dark child, brutal and mercurial, with her dolls and frocks, and that lightning quick strike.  
  
"Come here," Willow said gently. "There's room for you, too."  
  
But Drusilla shook her head, that bright smile coming back to her face. "No, precious. I told you, he is no longer my safe place."  
  
"What is your safe place now?" Drusilla remained silent and Willow's eyes widened in alarm. "You need a safe place, Dru!"  
  
The vampire's lips parted in what seemed to be shock. "You're upset, precious," she whispered.  
  
A long silence passed while Willow processed the fact that she was, indeed, concerned for Dru. Not just at this particular moment, but overall. For all the vampire's strength and power, she was...vulnerable. So open to pain and hurt that she couldn't fully express or understand. And now she had no place to retreat, to escape and feel safe and protected. Drusilla needed a place like that, because Willow suddenly realized that Dru's nightmares and fears didn't accost her only in sleep, but in her every waking hour.  
  
"Yeah," Willow acknowledged. "I'm upset."  
  
Dru's eyes darkened and her lip trembled. "You worry for me," she said, amazement in her child-like voice. "You are strong where I am weak."  
  
"I don't know about all that," Willow said carefully. She held out her hand, and Drusilla tilted her head to the side and stared at it. "But I--I guess I care for you. I don't know how it happened, and two months ago I wouldn't have believed it *could* happen. I don't want you to not have a place, Drusilla."  
  
"It's been such a long time. Nowhere to hide and laugh and dance and tea. But...but now..." Drusilla's hand clasped hers gently, and she reached out with her free hand to touch Willow's cheek almost reverently. "My Devil is safe because of you. Her life is in your hands, and you hold it so very carefully, not spilling even a drop." Her hand tightened around Willow's. "Would you do that for me, precious?" she asked, her eyes boring into Willow's. "Would you hold me carefully so that I do not spill or crack or tumble from high?"  
  
Would she? Right then, staring into the depthless brown of Drusilla's eyes-- eyes that spoke of a fear so great Willow felt tears fall down her cheeks-- there was only one answer to that question. "Yes. I would."  
  
Without another word, Drusilla climbed into the bed on Willow's other side, laid her head on Willow's chest, and was asleep almost instantly. Willow stared from Spike's protective embrace, to Dru nestled protectively against her, and marveled at how quickly things could become so tangled.  
  
Tangled in a way that wasn't bad now, but would be so difficult to extract herself from when she went back to the real world.  
  
***  
  
Coming awake between cold bodies was jarring, and Willow froze like a deer in the headlights as she tried to process what was going on. In her dream, the one after the nightmare, there'd been Spike and Dru. But she wasn't dreaming now, and she should have been alone in her bed.  
  
Except...she vaguely remembered wandering into Dev's room, groggy and weak, and being settled in Dev's bed by Angel. And...had she really pulled him into bed? Hesitantly, Willow opened her eyes and saw a broad back in her line of sight. Through the white material of an undershirt she could make out the shapes and colors of a tattoo. She squeezed her eyes shut. Yes, apparently she had pulled Angel into bed. How horrifyingly embarrassing.  
  
Another troubling thought niggled at her mind. Angel's back was to her, but there was an arm across her waist. An arm that was strong and covered by red silk and definitely did not belong to Dev, who should have been the only other body in the bed. Whimpering slightly, Willow pried one eye open and followed the arm to Spike's shoulder. The eye slammed shut again.  
  
"Bloody hell," Spike exclaimed suddenly. Willow screamed in surprise and bolted into a sitting position. Spike shoved her towards Angel and lifted his head to glare at her. "Could you do the freak out somewhere else? Damn heartbeat's louder than a train and it bloody woke me up!"  
  
Willow didn't respond, mainly because she was too busy trying to get her breathing under control. "How--but--you are such a *jerk*!"  
  
"Relax, Will," Angel said calmly. He changed position and sat up next to her. "You weren't feeling well last night and we were just staying with you. Are you feeling better?"  
  
They were staying with her? Willow looked around. Angel was on her left, concerned. Spike was on her right, grumpy and irritated. Next to him was Dev, who was--well, looking a whole lot better, and was actually dressed for a change. Had she been dressed last night? Willow struggled to remember and realized that, yes, Dev had been wearing a t-shirt when she'd stumbled in and asked Angel where Drusilla was. Speaking of Drusilla, she was lounging on her side, her face buried against Dev's hair and her wide eyes staring at Willow knowingly.  
  
That stare made Willow frown. She'd been dreaming, hadn't she? That whole Spike and Dru thing hadn't been real...had it?  
  
"Immutable," Drusilla murmured, and Willow's eyes widened. Okay, so not a dream.  
  
"Willow?" Angel asked softly.  
  
"What? Oh," Willow said in confusion. "I'm fine now and why did you guys stay with me?"  
  
"Part of the package deal," Spike said, his voice still deep with sleep. "What the hell was wrong with you?"  
  
Willow met Drusilla's eyes across Spike and Dev, and knew that the vampire hadn't, and wouldn't, tell anyone what Willow had done. "Just a...bug, I guess," Willow said hesitantly. "I felt kinda weak and really tired."  
  
"And you're fine now?" Angel pushed.  
  
Eyes not leaving Dru, Willow said, "Yeah, I rested and things are better now."  
  
Dru's eyes lit up and she smiled at Willow, who returned it. She thought she should be bothered that she had agreed to be a vampire's safe place, but she couldn't be, no matter how hard she tried. Drusilla had been so concerned about Willow that she'd gone into Willow's dreams and helped her. For no other reason than Willow was part of the "family". There had been talk of obligations and hierarchies when Angel had explained it all to her. It only made sense that she live up to her end of the deal.  
  
"We danced under the stars last night, precious," Drusilla sang liltingly. "It was like it used to be, but not, and better. They told me more secrets, too," she added with a cagey smile. "Told me of rumbles and pitter-patters. Should have remembered that when I saw you. But now I know."  
  
"That's...good," Willow said, her smile a bit forced. Despite everything else, she still couldn't understand Dru most of the time.  
  
"It's not even dusk yet," Spike complained. "Take the girl talk somewhere else."  
  
"No. Precious needs more rest," Drusilla countered. Her brows pulled together. "She needs her strength. Go back to sleep," she told Willow firmly.  
  
"But I'm not tired," Willow protested, though the truth of that statement was belied by the huge yawn that followed. Angel lay back down and pulled her with him, moving her on her side so that there was enough room for all of them.  
  
Willow found herself face to face with Spike, who blinked at her and then looked away. "I'll just, uh, go back to my room now," she said quickly, starting to sit up again.  
  
To her surprise, it wasn't Angel's hand that kept her from moving, but Spike's. "Stay," he said quietly, eyes guarded, hand resting on her waist. Willow tilted her head to the side and frowned. "Stay," he said again, this time a little uncomfortably.  
  
"All right," she said, confused. She settled down again and his hand didn't move. When he closed his eyes, she stared at him. Spike was her safe place, according to the dream. But, why Spike? She remembered waking up with her head on his lap, remembered thinking that she trusted him to keep them both alive. But she trusted Angel, too, didn't she? Even more than Spike, right?  
  
But she didn't. The thought had flittered through her mind when she'd pulled Angel to the bed. It was because of the soul, she realized. There were things Angel wouldn't do, because of it. Generally that was a good thing. But when it came to making her feel secure, those verboten things left a lot of loopholes that could get her killed. There wasn't anything Spike wouldn't do to keep her safe. Even taking a plank in his own chest.  
  
Her eyes slid shut and she moved away from Angel and pressed herself against Spike. He froze for a moment, then his arm curled around her back and held her to him.  
  
***  
  
The following days saw a shift in the routine of the house. The group rarely strayed from Dev's room as they waited with baited breath for some sign that the vampire was going to regain consciousness. There were no games now, though, just tense bodies that spun towards the bed at any strange sound. Willow and Angel had taken to reading during the vigil, unless Dru was in the mood to spin yarns for Dev. Then, they put aside their books and watched her act out whatever drama her mind had dreamed up.  
  
When Dru wasn't feeling up to tell tales, then she generally pampered Dev, bringing in a basin of water and a sponge to wash her, painting her nails and brushing her hair. Spike simply paced, no matter what else was happening in the room. And smoked so constantly that Willow had gone out to the store one evening with Angel and purchased a fan to suck the cloud of smoke out the window.  
  
During the day they slept. In Dev's room. In Dev's bed. All of them. Willow had tried to resist, but she'd been weak and still "sickly" for two days after she'd cut Dev off, and Angel had insisted she stay in with them in case something happened. She'd found that the safe place Dru had helped her find, combined with the strong cold bodies around her, the nightmares didn't even get a chance to rear their ugly heads, though she could feel them prowling around, trying to find a way in. But there wasn't one, and they eventually slunk away petulantly. She hadn't returned to her solitary bed, and no one had asked her to.  
  
The room was cramped with five of them occupying it all the time, and Spike's limited pacing area put him in all of their faces. Every once in a while Angel would reach out a foot, trip him to the floor, and growl a warning that he stay there. It usually lasted an hour at the most, then the pacing would continue. When it got to making her dizzy, Willow would grab his hand in the middle of his circuit and yawn, and Spike would sigh in a very put upon manner and sit next to her so that she could use his thigh as a pillow. Sometimes she fell asleep, but most of the time she just lay there quietly.  
  
Wesley called three times, each time indicating that none of the entries he'd backtracked could be linked to Dev's kidnapping and torture. He pressed on, though, hoping something would crop up. Willow was beginning to feel less hopeful and was glad she'd been able to convince Angel to let her do the healing spell. It wouldn't be long now until Dev woke up. Her injuries had healed completed by the fourth day of the vigil, and they expected her to regain consciousness soon.  
  
On the sixth night, Dru spent two hours pouting and taunting the vampires. Angel strong-armed her and Spike out of the house, tossing one of the cell phones at Willow since there wasn't a phone jack in Dev's room and no one could seem to find the cordless anywhere. (Willow thought Spike had smashed the things to bit one day when a telemarketer had woken him up at three in the afternoon, but she didn't have any proof.)  
  
And that's why Willow was alone in the house with Dev when she woke up. As usual, she hadn't felt right leaving Dev unattended, so she'd piled several pillows on the floor and settled down to read a book that had nothing to do with anything supernatural whatsoever.  
  
A noise drew her attention as she was turning a page, and her eyes automatically went to Dev. The bed was empty. Sucking in a shocked and scared breath, Willow jumped to her feet and edged around the bed to see the floor on the other side.  
  
Dev was on her hands and knees, her head hanging low and those purple tresses hiding her face and dragging on the carpet. Without looking away, Willow took Angel's cell phone out of her pocket and dialed Spike's phone. He answered on the third ring.  
  
"What?"  
  
"You guys need to come back here," Willow choked out. "Now."  
  
"Ten minutes," Spike replied, his voice clipped. The line went dead and Willow pushed several buttons before finally shutting the phone off. It dropped from her suddenly lifeless fingers.  
  
Dev had pulled herself laboriously to her knees and was clutching the side of the bed to hold herself up. Willow knew better than to approach a hungry, injured and confused vampire. Especially one who had no idea who she was.  
  
Moving slowly, Willow went to the small mini-fridge by the door. She'd gotten it several days ago so that there was blood close on hand during the vigil. Dev's face was drawn tight with pain and her huge blue eyes tracked Willow seemingly instinctively. Willow reached into the fridge and pulled out a bag of blood, holding it up for Dev to see. The vampire's eyes followed it, darkening and lighting at the same time. Willow removed her hand from the bad and it stayed adrift in mid-air. Dev didn't appear to notice anything unusual about the bag that floated to her.  
  
Her face shifted and she dragged one hand from the side of the bed and fumbled it around the bag. With clumsy motions, she brought it to her mouth and drank it down. Three more bags were demolished in the next few minutes. Willow held up a fifth, but Dev shook her head. Awareness had come to her and she was watching Willow warily.  
  
"Angel and the others will be back any minute now," Willow said softly, and Dev's eyes narrowed.  
  
"I.I know you," Dev croaked in a voice unused to speaking.  
  
"Not really," Willow denied, frowning. "I mean, there was the whole 'you possessed me' bit, but we've never met. I'm Willow."  
  
Dev matched Willow's frown and tried to push herself to her feet, but she was still too weak and fell back on her heels again. The t-shirt had ridden up over her thighs and bunched around her waist.  
  
Willow motioned at Dev and offered, "I could." Dev shook her head. "Right. Well, do you want a blanket or something?"  
  
A long pause, then, "Yes."  
  
Willow levitated one from over by the dresser, and this time Dev took note of the trick. Her lips curled into a snarl and she tried to fling herself at Willow, who had realized her mistake. Hadn't she been the one to tell the others that Dev had known that her captors had magic? If Dev's last memory of magic was it being used against her, to hurt her and keep her a prisoner, then it was no wonder she was ready to fight.  
  
Willow let the blanket fall to the floor next to Dev and backed up, holding her hands out before her. "Hey, it's okay," she said soothingly. "I've been helping Spike, Angel and Dru take care of you."  
  
The attempt to defend herself by attacking Willow seemed to sap Dev's energy and she collapsed back completely, lying on her back with her knees still tucked under her. It was a rather unnerving position to see a half- naked vampire in, but Willow pushed that thought aside.  
  
"I just called them," Willow continued, her voice still quiet and calming. "They'll be here before you know it. They only went out because Dru was in a mood and they figured it would be best to let her stretch her legs. Well, figuratively, of course, since she can stretch her legs in the house just as well, but--"  
  
"This isn't Angel's place."  
  
Willow blinked. Dev had turned her head and was staring at her with those huge eyes of hers. "Well, no," Willow agreed. "But we couldn't stay there on account of the baddies tracking us down."  
  
Dev's jaw set, and then she rolled on her side and pushed herself to her knees again. "Where are we, and why?" Dev growled suspiciously.  
  
"Illinois, actually. Not far from Chicago," Willow supplied helpfully. "And we're here mainly because this is where we ended up when we finally got the baddies off our tail. Do you want some clothes?" she added incongruously, her voice laced with concern. "I mean, it probably makes you feel all vulnerable to be pantsless. I could get you something to put on if you want. A robe, maybe?"  
  
Dev still looked distrustful and Willow sighed. "I know you're probably confused and scared--" Dev growled and Willow remembered that this was Spike's demon in the woman. Quickly backtracking, Willow corrected herself. "Confused and suspicious. But I'm sure you can smell the others. I mean, *I* can smell them and I don't even have your enhanced senses." She smiled sheepishly and shrugged. "Okay, so I can't, but you can. Go ahead," she urged Dev. "Sniff."  
  
Her brows low, Dev flared her nostrils and then her eyes widened. Her head whipped around to stare at the room, her gaze stopping on a shirt of Angel's that was draped across the dresser, and the pack of Spike's cigarettes that were on top of the mini-fridge. She settled her sight on Willow and tilted her head.  
  
"Yes, I can smell them," Dev agreed, hope in her eyes. "And you. I can smell you, too. I know you."  
  
"Like I said, you kind of possessed me while you were out for the count," Willow reminded her. "Thanks for that, by the way. Because while it was way creepy, it also kept--"  
  
"Dru from hurting you," Dev finished, her eyes wide. "You said you're Willow," Dev said in her husky voice, a thoughtful tone ringing through loud and clear. "Angel.Angel mentioned you. You restored his soul." Willow nodded excitedly. "You're Willow *and* you're her. I didn't see that coming."  
  
Willow opened her mouth to question that statement but the door to the bedroom slammed opened. The three vampires tore into the room ready to rip someone to shreds, then came to a skidding halt and stared in shock at Dev. Their game faces slid off and they stayed frozen in position until Dev reached out a hand, tears in her eyes, and said, "Sires."  
  
Flurries of movement, gasps of relief and joy, and then the four of them were a tangle of limbs and bodies on the floor next to the bed. Willow quietly left the room.  
  
***  
  
Spike gripped Dev's hand and helped her briefly to her feet. She swayed greatly, and he shifted his hold on her so that he could set her on the bed again. She rested against the headboard, and Spike sat next to her, face buried against her neck.  
  
He was vaguely aware of Angel and Dru finding their own positions on the bed, claiming their own handholds, but it didn't matter. What mattered was Dev's hand on the back of his neck, her fingers awkwardly caressing his nape.  
  
They stayed that way for a long while and then Spike sat up, dislodging her hand only long enough to take it into his own and place a kiss on the back of it. Drusilla was curled up on the other side of Dev, in the crook of her arm. Dev was holding her around the waist, pressing her close.  
  
That was when he noticed that Angel wasn't on the bed, but was standing at the foot of it, watching them all with emotion-filled eyes. Dev met his gaze readily as she held Spike's hand and hugged Drusilla. Though Spike was loath to relinquish Dev even a little, he knew them both too damned well.  
  
Standing, Spike lifted Dev to her feet once again and motioned Angel over. He came slowly, standing just in front of Dev for a long time and staring at her in wonder before Dev pushed herself from Spike and fell onto Angel. Spike stepped back and smiled as Angel gathered their child in his arms and held her like he'd never let go.  
  
Eventually Dev pulled back, her face troubled, her body trembling. "I need-- "  
  
Angel spun her in his arms so that her back was pressed to his chest. Then he sat on the bed, Dev situated in the vee of his legs. Spike climbed on the bed and shimmied to them on his knees, pressing one behind Angel and then shifting the other so that it ran along the length of Angel and Dev's legs. It was Angel that he felt. Angel's muscles intimately straining against his parted legs, pushed against his crotch.  
  
Dru mimicked Spike's position on the other side of Angel, her knee pressing against Spike's, and her dress hiked to her waist to accommodate the position.  
  
Dev sighed, her head moving as she looked from one sire to another. "Thank you," she whispered.  
  
They shifted their faces and brought their wrists to their mouths, then raised their arms and pressed the wounds together so that the blood that flowed down towards Dev's upturned head and into her waiting mouth contained the essence of each of them.  
  
Dev's face changed when the first bit of blood touched her lips, and Spike was damn glad to see the demon visage that had been absent since Los Angeles.  
  
They let her drink her fill, reopening the wounds when they closed, until they were all on the point of collapse. Spike grabbed a blanket from the floor and wrapped it around Dev. Angel moved back on the bed, bringing Dev with him, and propped himself against the headboard. Spike and Dru laid next to them.  
  
His vision was swimming, but Spike couldn't muster the energy to drag himself to the fridge on the other side of the room to get blood. He knew both Angel and Drusilla were just as weak as he was, and that Dev was probably in better shape than all of them despite her condition. When he could convince his mouth to speak, he'd ask if maybe she could get the blood for them.  
  
There was a knock at the door and Spike stared blearily at it. Someone, maybe Angel, told the visitor to come in, and the door opened to reveal Willow. Spike smelled blood and he noticed the tray she was holding. Oh, he'd be her devoted servant forever if she gave him some of that.  
  
Willow came to the bedside and set the tray on the nightstand before handing each of them a mug of warm blood. Spike brought it to his lips and drank it down greedily, holding it out to her a moment later.  
  
"More," he growled.  
  
He wasn't the only one that wanted seconds, and Willow shook her head indulgently as she took the mugs back and refilled them with the contents of a large black carafe that Spike hadn't noticed earlier.  
  
Ten minutes and three helpings of blood later, Spike felt like he was almost in his right mind again, but exorbitantly tired. As were they all, if the slow movements and lazy blinking were anything to go by.  
  
Willow walked around to the other side of the bed and Spike's eyes followed her. She bent over Dru's feet and easily removed her shoes, then reached up to let Dru's hair down. Spike felt his body still when he saw that. Dru got terrible headaches if she slept with her hair up.  
  
What had happened, and how? Just a few months ago, even sweet and caring Willow wouldn't have bothered to be concerned about Drusilla's well-being, and there she was, running her hands through Dru's hair and massaging the tightness from her scalp. Dru sighed and smiled sleepily.  
  
"So precious," she murmured before falling asleep.  
  
Willow was at the foot of the bed then, this time divesting Angel of his shoes. "Hand over the belt, Angel," she said quietly. "I can't get to it."  
  
Spike shifted his head and looked at Angel, noticing the frown of confusion on his face. Willow repeated her request and his hands moved automatically behind Dev, to his waist, and then emerged with his belt. Willow took it with a smile and then moved to Spike's side.  
  
He stared up at her and she reached out and touched his hair. "Lift up so I can get the duster," she said lowly.  
  
It took a few moments before he had shifted into the correct position to allow her to slide the duster from him. She folded it over her arm and then set it on the chair in the corner. Spike was now lying mostly on his back, and her small hands moved to his shirt and pulled it from his jeans before starting on the buttons. She'd undone three of them before his arm had obeyed his command and moved so that he could cover her hand in his.  
  
He held it and she looked at him in confusion. Spike just stared at her and finally she smiled again and put her other hand over his and squeezed gently.  
  
"Not a problem," she said with amusement and then shook his hand off of hers so that she could finish unbuttoning his overshirt. She left the dress shirt and the t-shirt on, as he preferred, then removed his boots.  
  
Spike wiggled his toes in satisfaction and held out a hand to her. Willow shook her head and set about adjusting the blanket around the now-sleeping Dev.  
  
"Go to sleep, Spike."  
  
Then she was gone, flicking the light off as she went, and Spike was already halfway asleep, his arm still outreached for her.  
  
*** 


	12. Part 12

*******  
  
Angel woke up feeling disoriented. Eyes still closed, he tried to figure out what was throwing him off. After a moment, he realized that there wasn't a heat emitting Willow to his left, and the memory of the previous night returned. His eyes flew open and he tilted his head down to stare at Dev.  
  
Her eyes were open and she was watching him. "Hi," she said, her voice deeper than he was accustomed to hearing.  
  
"Hi," he said with a smile. "How are you?"  
  
Dev shook her head. "I'm good." She gave him a wry grin. "I'd be better if Spike wasn't so restless over on your other side, but beggars can't be choosers."  
  
Angel cut his eyes to his left, and saw Spike's furrowed brow. Generally, Willow was situated between him and Spike, with Dev and then Drusilla on Angel's right side. He had a fuzzy memory of Willow bringing them blood and then slipping out of the room.  
  
"How long have I been...out?" Dev asked him quietly, and Angel looked down at her again.  
  
"A little over a month."  
  
She blinked. "That's all? I thought it would take longer."  
  
Angel shrugged, the movement awkward because of the way she was lying on his arm. "Willow helped with that. Do you feel weak?"  
  
A frown came to her face, then she seemed to shake it off. "Only a little bit," she said with some surprise. "Like I haven't been eating properly." She narrowed her eyes on him. "I should be in a lot worse shape."  
  
"Willow," Angel said again, then reached out to shake Spike. "Wake up. Dev needs to eat."  
  
Spike groaned and pried his eyes open, confusion settling into them. "What?" he mumbled, sitting up. He stared at the empty space next to him, then looked at Angel, who just tilted his head down to gesture at Dev. "Bloody hell, it's good to see your eyes open," Spike said to her with a grin.  
  
Angel watched her smile with something like wonder, then reach out and touch Spike's face. "It's good to have my eyes open and...see this little scene I never thought I'd see." Her dark blue eyes twinkled. "One big happy family. I think I might tear up."  
  
Spike snorted. "Don't get sappy on us, luv. You give me hope for the souled set, what with your blood thirst and utter brutality."  
  
Drusilla stirred on Dev's other side, boneless body wafting up as she pushed her tussled hair from her face. She grinned down at Dev delightedly, pulling their childe to her and cradling her against her breast.  
  
"Our Devil is back," she sighed contentedly, but then a frown pulled at her brow as her eyes scanned the bed. She made a small, discontented sound at Willow's absence and pulled Dev closer.  
  
"I'll get some blood," Angel said, sitting up and sliding down the bed. He was damned tired, and looking at the others, he knew they were as well. Questioning Dev would have to wait until they could blink without being tempted to sleep.  
  
Getting to his feet, he pulled his shirt off and kicked his shoes off. Padding downstairs, he found Willow in the kitchen, leaning with her back against a counter, desperately drinking coffee. Her face was pale, with a grayish cast to it, and she had deep shadows under her eyes. She was still wearing her clothes from the night before.  
  
"Hey," she said when she saw him, her voice raspy and raw. "How's Dev doing?"  
  
Angel tilted his head to the side. "Good," he said absently. "Are you all right? You look kind of...tired."  
  
He was being nice with the assessment. She looked exhausted and haggard, to be honest.  
  
Willow took a sip of coffee. "I stayed up for a while in case you guys needed anything," she said tiredly. "I think I stayed up too late, because then I got too tired to sleep and now I'm just...blargh." She flashed him a weak smile and held up her cup. "But, you know, coffee. Helps."  
  
He thought she wasn't being quite honest with him because of the way she avoided looking at him, and Angel frowned, but let it go at that. Most likely she hadn't been able to sleep in her solitary bed again; he knew the feeling. After leaving Darla and the others for the final time after the soul, it had taken him weeks to adjust to being alone. Then he'd had to go through the readjustment again after he, Spike and Drusilla had spent all that time with Dev. He really wasn't looking forward to doing it again once this was over.  
  
"Try to sleep," he suggested, going to the refrigerator. "We'll be doing the same after we feed Dev."  
  
Willow crossed the room to the sink and took the black carafe from last night out of the dish rack and handed it to him. "If I sleep now, my whole sleep schedule will be out of whack. Besides, I'm overdue for laundry."  
  
Angel pulled several bags of blood out and close the refrigerator door. Willow passed him an empty mug when he cut open a pouch, and he slipped it into the microwave. They worked together silently, compatibly, to heat up five bags and add them to the carafe.  
  
When he headed out of the room, Willow followed, carrying several mugs. Angel tossed her a questioning look and she shrugged, yawning widely. "Figure I can do those sheets while I'm at it," she said. "They're kind of bloody and stuff."  
  
Angel paused at the foot of the steps leading upstairs and stared down at her. "Thank you," he said quietly.  
  
She blinked once, then smiled. "They're just some sheets, Angel. No need to get all emotional about them," she teased him, her eyes twinkling, albeit mutedly due to her fatigue.  
  
His lips quirked, and he reached out with the hand not holding the carafe to cup her cheek in his palm. "I mean it," he insisted. "I don't know how long it would have taken for Dev to get better if you hadn't helped, or how long we would have had to keep running."  
  
She lifted her shoulders in a dismissive shrug. "You're welcome, but it wasn't that big of a deal. Just a little mojo here and there. Simple, even."  
  
Thinking about what they'd been through, what they still didn't know, what might or might not be happening between her and Spike, and what they had yet to go through, Angel didn't think that "simple" entered into the equation at all.  
  
Mentally shaking his head at what the Hellmouth had taught this young woman about simple, he started upstairs, Willow trailing behind him.  
  
In the master bedroom, Spike was sprawled on the bed, legs crossed at the ankles and one arm tucked under his head while he smoked and watched the two women slowly walking around the room. Drusilla was supporting a slightly wobbly Dev by way of an arm around her waist. The t-shirt she had on was one of Spike's black numbers, and it hit her about mid-thigh. Her hair was a mass of purple tangles and was sticking out in all directions. She was a sight for sore eyes, that was for sure.  
  
Spike's eyes flickered to Angel and Willow, and he motioned to the copper bowl on the bedside table while he put out his cigarette and set his ashtray aside. Angel sniffed quickly and realized that he and Dru had already put their portions in. Willow shifted the mugs around in her hands until they dangled from three fingers of one of her hands, then took the carafe from him and crossed to the dresser.  
  
"Look like shit, pet," Spike commented to her as she poured blood into each of the mugs.  
  
Angel cut into his wrist and held the copper bowl under it. Willow glared at Spike, which just made him smirk, then offered Dev and Drusilla a smile. "Hi guys."  
  
Dev lifted a hand in greeting, continuing her slow circuit around the room. Vampires' muscles couldn't atrophy from non-use the way humans' could, but they could get painfully stiff after such a long period of inactivity and the more she walked at the moment, the better off she would be.  
  
"That's precious," Drusilla said to Dev, leaning down and pressing a kiss on her cheek. "She's ours."  
  
Dev stared at Willow and blinked. "All right," she said neutrally, then smiled gratefully when Angel brushed Drusilla aside and helped her to a chair. She took the bowl from him and drank it down quickly, a light hint of gold entering her eyes.  
  
"Hurry it up with the blood, wench," Spike called out cheerfully to Willow.  
  
Angel rubbed his forehead and took the empty bowl from Dev. Willow was too tired to have any patience for him, and Angel was too tired from all the blood donations the previous night to have any patience for the inevitable argument that would follow.  
  
"Spike," he said warningly.  
  
The blonde exhaled a plume of smoke and arched a brow. "Angel," he said in the same tone.  
  
With a silent groan, Angel realized that he'd forgotten just how obnoxious Spike could get when he was in a good mood.  
  
"Spike, why don't you do something useful," Willow grumbled. "Strip--"  
  
"Willow, I'm shocked!" Spike gasped.  
  
"--the bed, you idiot," she finished with another glare and a yawn. She waved a mug in his general direction, then held it behind her back. "No blood for you until you do."  
  
Angel groaned when he saw the way Spike's eyes glowed at that. Oh, hell. Willow wasn't expecting it, mainly because she hadn't yet seen Spike in a mood like this since this had started. If Angel were to hazard a guess, he'd say that she was expecting a volley of half-hearted insults to get traded before Spike went ahead and stripped the bed--probably shredding the sheets in the process.  
  
Instead, Spike was on his feet and across the room before she could blink. In fact, the mug had been divested of her hand and she'd been tossed onto the bed before she realized that he'd moved. Willow landed with a thump, arms and legs akimbo as she stared at Spike in total incomprehension.  
  
A smirk slid across Spike's face, and she began scrambling backwards, her fear scenting the air. Angel narrowed his eyes on Spike and snapped, "Cut it out. Now."  
  
The blonde ignored him, pouncing at the bed and grabbing Willow from behind, one arm around her waist and trapping her hands at her side, and the other pressed against her throat. Angel could see her eyes, could see that she didn't realize this was just Spike feeling...well, playful. Which he was, because his eyes were sparkling mischievously as he bent his head and set his mouth near her ear. But Willow was facing away from him, and all she knew were the arms holding her in place, the face coming too close to her neck for comfort.  
  
"Not nice to keep blood from a hungry vampire, pet," he murmured.  
  
"That's enough," Angel growled when Willow's heart rate picked up. Spike was too caught up in his little game to realize that she wasn't playing along, and just rolled his eyes. Angel strode across the room and curled a hand tightly through Spike's short hair. "Damn it, Spike, you're scaring her."  
  
Spike blinked slowly, then cocked his head to the side. The amusement fled from his face and he sucked in a breath and then slowly released Willow. She pushed herself forward, and Angel lifted her off the bed, setting her on her feet and taking hold of her face.  
  
"That would be Spike in a good mood. It doesn't translate well," he told her gently. She was shaking just a little, but her heart had slowed down and the fear had eased away. Angel tilted her face up and stared down at her until she seemed to have processed that. "Nothing's changed. You're safe with us."  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Spike get to his feet and start to come their way. A quick glare had the younger vampire coming to a stop, his jaw clenched as he looked at them.  
  
"I know," Willow said, sighing. The last hint of trepidation left her and she shook her head. "I completely overreacted. I'm just--"  
  
"Exhausted and not thinking too clearly," Angel finished with a nod. "I know. Forget about the sheets--we'll trash them. Get some sleep, and that's not a request."  
  
Her eyes flickered to Dev and Drusilla, who had watched everything with wide eyes. "But what if you need--"  
  
"Sleep," he repeated, moving his hold to her shoulders and turning her towards the door. He gave her a little nudge. "Now."  
  
"Fine, but I'm going to eat something first," she said ill-temperedly, almost stomping away. Angel let her get away with the small show of defiance because he knew she'd obey him and get some sleep. Before she left the room, however, she turned back and her eyes sought Spike. He returned the look with guarded eyes that Angel knew hid his regret for the little stunt. Her head tilted to the side, and then she quirked a brow just as a mug of blood emptied itself on Spike's head. "We're even," she called out as she fled the room.  
  
Spike stood next to the bed, blood dripping down his wide-eyed, slack jawed face. Anger followed shock, only to be replaced almost instantly by wry amusement. "Bloody hell," he muttered as he grabbed hold of the top sheet on the bed and wiped his face.  
  
Angel listened to Willow make her way downstairs and into the kitchen. Moving quickly, he grabbed hold of Spike's throat and pulled him up on his toes.  
  
"Back off," Spike snarled. "I didn't know she was half asleep."  
  
Angel pulled him closer. "You should have," he barked. "Just like you should have noticed she was scared." He shoved Spike away and glared at him. "You reminded me of my responsibilities, and now I'm reminding you of yours," he went on coldly. "This is the *second* time I've seen you needlessly scare her, and it *will* be the last. Understand me?"  
  
Spike resentfully dipped his head in acknowledgement. "Yeah, got it," he said flatly.  
  
"Get a clean set of sheets in here," Angel said tightly, moving to start stripping the bed. "And leave your little attitude in the hall when you come back in."  
  
The vampire's exit from the room was similar to Willow's, what with the stomping, and Angel clenched his jaw.  
  
"What the hell is going on?" Dev asked with confusion. "Spike just *listened* to you. He never listens to you. Or anyone."  
  
Angel cut a glance in her direction and saw that she was sitting alone now, Drusilla having gone to the dresser to get blood for herself. "You saw him listen to me once before," he reminded her, balling the sheets up and tossing them in a corner.  
  
Dev nodded slowly, her eyes watching him carefully as he joined Drusilla at the dresser for his own mug of blood. "That was different, though," she said very slowly. She paused, and her next words were laced with a million questions. "We were family."  
  
Angel nodded, just once. "For now, we are again."  
  
Sapphire eyes widened almost imperceptibly. "All right," she said, just as she'd said when Drusilla had proclaimed Willow theirs.  
  
Dru clapped her hands happily, spinning in circles. "We're in a play, sweetness," she laughed. "Only we're not." She twirled a stop and dropped her chin to her chest, her glittering eyes lifting to look at Dev. "It's deliciously twisted."  
  
"All right," Dev said again, and Angel guessed that was going to be her response to everything that wasn't quite clear enough for her tastes.  
  
Spike came back in with the sheets, tossing them on the bed and making a beeline for the blood. Angel noticed the remnants of the cup Willow had dumped on him were now gone, so he must have washed up in the bathroom.  
  
With quick motions, Angel made the bed and motioned everyone towards it. "When we're rested, we'll talk," he said to the room at large, setting in the middle. Everyone joined him, Drusilla helping a still-unsteady Dev, and Spike flouncing down with a grunt.  
  
Dev was asleep almost immediately, and Dru followed not long after, wrapped around their childe. Angel kept his exhaustion at bay, waiting on Spike to fall asleep before succumbing himself. It was something he'd always done as patriarch, a small thing that had always seemed right. Make sure the others were taken care of before he took care of himself. But Spike, despite having to be as tired as the rest of them were, was restless.  
  
He tossed. He turned. He kept himself confined to a very small space just this side of the edge of the bed, as though Willow was still there. Even though she wasn't, which was why he was having a problem falling asleep if Angel was right. After what seemed like an eternity, the blonde finally fell asleep despite himself, and Angel muttered a small prayer of thanks and went to sleep as well.  
  
*******  
  
Down the hall, Willow stumbled into the room she hadn't used in well over a week, her stomach appeased by the chips she'd fed it, and changed into her pajamas. She hadn't been entirely truthful with Angel about why she hadn't slept. True, she'd been concerned that they might need something, but she'd also not wanted to contemplate her empty room, either.  
  
But there was no way around it, because Dev waking up had changed things. Maybe not a huge amount, but enough. Looking down at the four vampires the previous night, she'd realized that her place wasn't with them. They were family, bound by blood in ways that were more complex and a lot deeper than biological bonds. She was just the girl who was helping them. That entitled her to a lot, but it didn't entirely include her, and she understood it.  
  
Sighing, she lay down and experimented with stretching out. It felt strange, to say the least. She was used to having a very small amount of space in which to sleep, and being bracketed on both sides by strong bodies. She felt adrift in her single bed, like it was an ocean and she was a little, tiny buoy among the vastness of water. She felt...vulnerable. Shivering slightly, she took the blanket from the foot of the bed and wrapped it around herself, almost binding herself with it. It helped just slightly, but in the end it didn't matter, because her body was running on empty and it didn't care about who was or was not next to her.  
  
When she fell asleep, she slid right into the nightmares. If she' d had legs in the dream--if her body had been present in it the way her mind was-- she would have collapsed from the onslaught of images. Scalpels being displayed for her to see by cloaked figures. Hands and feet being manacle to some kind of surface. She heard screams and crying, smelled raw flesh that she knew was her own. Felt a pain unlike any she'd ever experienced as her back was sliced away one inch at a time.  
  
For the first time since Drusilla had shown Willow her safe spot, Willow had to retreat there. She pulled away from the nightmare, pulled as hard and desperately as she could, and it sped up, the pain crashing around her, each moment flowing so quickly into another that they overlapped and didn't give her a moment to breathe.  
  
She stopped pulling and just screamed, over and over again, choking when she saw her skinned back being held up for her to see. And that's what did it. The skin. It wasn't hers, and she knew it. These weren't her memories. This hadn't happened to her.  
  
And she didn't have to stay there. She pulled back again, putting everything in her behind the motion, and suddenly found herself in the living room of the house. On the sofa. Spike's back was braced against the arm, and Willow was nestled between his thighs. His arms were wrapped around her waist, and one of his legs was curled on top of her thighs. He was encircling her. Sighing, she leaned back and moments later had retreated to a dreamless sleep that, unfortunately, didn't last long.  
  
She woke up gasping for breath, not feeling rested in the least, and deciding against trying to sleep again. For some reason, she'd kept drifting from her safe place back into the nightmare and she wasn't eager to repeat the process any more. Sighing, she got out of bed and dragged herself downstairs for yet more coffee. In the kitchen, she saw the time and was surprised to see that it was only midnight. Angel had come downstairs at around seven, which meant that she'd headed to bed sometime around eight. She would have thought she'd sleep longer, even with the dreams.  
  
Sighing tiredly, she took a breath and pushed all thoughts of the nightmares from her mind. She didn't know how to get rid of them. Or, rather, she didn't know a way that wouldn't expose her to whoever was sending them. Right now they were generalized, directed at Dev's last known location, in a way. There was no way they could track Willow directly right now. But if she tried to actively block or stop what they were doing, it would give them a path to her directly. And that would be bad. Just very bad.  
  
After making the coffee and some toast, she stood at the counter and wondered what would happen now. With Dev up and recovered, would Angel send Willow back to Sunnydale? With a start, she realized she wasn't as pleased at the idea as she should have been. Strange as everything had been over the last few weeks, she'd kind of grown to like it.  
  
Also, there was no denying the fact that she would miss Spike. Even her denial had its limits. After all, they'd spent so much time together. True, he still managed to annoy and disgust her. But away from the Scoobies, and with her current status, he'd also made her laugh, and she'd never been able to talk to anyone the way she could talk to Spike.  
  
With him, she didn't have to censor anything for a lower reading level. And, yeah, she felt kind of bad thinking that her friends needed to have things...uh, dumbed down at times, but they did. Even if Spike didn't know about something, all it took was an overview for him to get the entire picture. While they might not agree on every point--or any, actually--Spike never made her feel like an idiot for thinking anything. As long as she had an actual reason, of course. And, truthfully, she'd actually begun second- guessing some things, mainly due to the way he'd forced her to validate her opinions every chance he got.  
  
Going home would mean leaving behind thought-provoking conversations. Not to mention cuddly vampires, which she was far too addicted to if her difficulty falling asleep earlier was any indication.  
  
But it was more than just Spike, truthfully. Or even the cuddles. She felt accepted with the vampires. Fully accepted. As in, no matter what, they'd be on her side. It was nice to not worry that a choice or opinion would cause her to be cast out. Not that she thought Buffy, or Xander would do that. But she had a *guarantee* that the vampires wouldn't.  
  
She was startled from her thoughts by the ringing of the phone. Quickly swallowing the last of her toast, she sipped from her coffee as she hurried into the living room to answer the phone.  
  
"Hey Wesley," she answered; he was the only one who had the number.  
  
"Willow," he greeted her. "How is everything?"  
  
"Dev woke up!" Willow informed him.  
  
"That's excellent news. I'm afraid that mine isn't as good, though."  
  
Willow sighed. She'd had a feeling this was coming. "You don't think it has to do with the Analects, do you?" she guessed.  
  
"No," Wesley admitted tiredly. "However, I do believe it has to do with the Amalgamated. Unfortunately, I've not been able to find anything on that front."  
  
"Nothing?" Willow repeated, a nagging suspicion coming to the fore of her mind. "I think Dev probably horded it all. Maybe the others, too."  
  
Wesley made a noise of agreement. "I can't even find what her purpose is, though the records I've translated thus far indicated she's a Champion in her own right. But that seems too..."  
  
"Straightforward for a prophetic creation?" Willow finished perkily.  
  
"Indeed," he drawled. "I think I need to speak with Angel. See what he thinks our next move should be."  
  
"All right. I'll have him call you."  
  
Wesley chuckled. "Still haven't found the cordless? Or at least its remains?"  
  
"No," she grumbled. "I think Spike covered his tracks. Let me go wake Angel."  
  
"Before you do..."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
There was a long pause, and Willow frowned. "Giles has been calling frequently as of late," he told her quietly, and her breath caught. "I think he's becoming suspicious of Angel's extended, er, trip, despite that Cordelia and I have been covering." He exhaled softly. "They're terribly worried about you, Willow. They think Spike has killed you."  
  
Willow swallowed thickly. Okay, home wasn't a bad place at all, and she really, really missed it. "Could you maybe see if Angel will let you come up with something that won't make them worry?" she asked hopefully.  
  
She'd already tried to get Wesley to pass something on to the others, but he'd refused to do so without Angel's okay. And while Willow had been more than a little tempted to call or email her friends herself, Angel had pretty much forbidden her to do so. She might have done it anyway, except she didn't think she'd like the consequences, and she knew he was right about them keeping a low profile.  
  
Wesley said he would broach the subject with Angel, and they hung up. Willow went upstairs, only to pause uncertainly at the door to the master bedroom. She wasn't sure if she should go in, or not. Biting her lip, she tentatively rapped on the door. "Angel?" she called out.  
  
A moment later the door opened, and Angel stared down at her. "What do you need?" he asked quietly.  
  
"Wesley needs you to call him," she replied. "And I need an escort." At his confused look, she elaborated. "The blood supply is really low, and all I've got left to eat is bread and Wheetabix."  
  
"Hands off the Wheetabix," Spike growled from in the bedroom.  
  
"Give me a minute," Angel told Willow. "I'll call Wes and then we can go on a supply run."  
  
Willow nodded. "Good. Gives me time to get dressed," she said around a yawn.  
  
Angel frowned down at her with concern, and Willow realized her misstep. Shoot, if she was going to keep the nightmares a secret, she had to stop yawning like that and inviting questions.  
  
"Didn't sleep well?" he asked gently, a look of understanding in his eyes.  
  
Willow blinked, then blushed when she realized what he was talking about. Okay, so it was good that he hadn't realized what she was hiding, but she was a little embarrassed that she'd gotten so used to the pile of vampires.  
  
"Um, I slept fine," she said quickly. "Just...still waking up. I'll go put some clothes on."  
  
With that, she beat a hasty retreat for her tiny room.  
  
*******  
  
Angel was distracted during their trips to the blood bank and the grocery store, so Willow kept silent and wondered what had gone on during his call to Wesley. The fact that he hadn't brought it up didn't bode well. When they got back to the house, he helped her bring the bags into the kitchen and then stood, staring at the floor.  
  
Willow turned towards the counter and stared into the depths of a paper bag. "You're not going to let Wesley tell them anything, are you?" she said quietly.  
  
"No," he said, and she could hear the regret in his voice.  
  
She swallowed thickly. "You're sending me back, aren't you?"  
  
There was no sound to let her know he was moving, but she didn't jump when he took hold of her arm and turned her to face him. She peered up at him and knew his answer. It was written in the tight set of his face and determined eyes. Willow's job was done there, and the rest was up to the vampires to handle.  
  
"Wes is going to research the shield you set up," he said quietly. "If it'll hold up without you having to be near her, then...you'll be able to go home. To Xander and Buffy. I know--"  
  
"I'd better start the laundry," she interrupted him, drawing her arm away from him and heading to the basement door. "I'll finish with the groceries when I come back up."  
  
She ran down the steps, flicking on the lights as she went, and came to a stop at the washing machine. Eyes closed, she braced her hands on the cool metal and hung her head.  
  
*Home is good. I miss home and people and my life.*  
  
A few minutes later, she lifted her head and squared her shoulders. It wasn't so bad. She could leave and readjust back to normal. And that really was the truth. Because she hadn't been getting the cuddles all that long, and she and Spike had just started to become friends when she thought about it. Not close friends, just friends. Who...snuggled. Together. In bed. With three other vampires. Two of who had souls.  
  
"God, my life is so weird," she muttered, taking a breath.  
  
But, Sunnydale life was less weird, and less emotionally dangerous. Most of the time, at least. It also didn't lend towards her developing inappropriate feelings for the bad guys. Because, there? The bad guys tried to kill her. They didn't try to teach her lessons for her own good, or wheedle her into playing cribbage when she really just wanted to go to sleep.  
  
Strangely enough, Sunnydale seemed simple right about then.  
  
*******  
  
Angel slipped into the bedroom, and Spike sat up immediately upon his entering. Angel watched recognition flash in his blue eyes before they settled on the empty spot next to him on the bed. Willow's spot. Frowning, Angel put several bags of blood in the small fridge, closing the door with a muffled slam.  
  
He was doing the right thing. The only thing, really. Sending Willow home would bring the Spike-Willow thing to a halt, and it would keep her safe from whoever had hurt Dev.  
  
The other vampires were all awake now, staring at his looming form curiously. Drusilla frowned, then glided from the bed to stare pensively out the window. Dev's head was swiveling from one of her sires to the other, and Spike had narrowed his eyes on Angel, the taut set of his muscles signaling that he was bracing himself for bad news.  
  
"How are you feeling?" Angel asked Dev.  
  
"Like becoming Willow's personal slave for the rest of her life," their childe replied with an infectious grin. "I don't know what she did, but I feel damn good. Like I wasn't even hurt."  
  
Angel nodded. "You can start feeding normally again, but if you need our blood, just let us know."  
  
"I don't think I will," she said simply.  
  
"Good," Angel said abruptly. He tucked his hands in his pockets and looked down at the floor. "We need to know what happened."  
  
"Angel," Spike started to say.  
  
"It's...fine," Dev said, her voice thick. "Better to get it out of the way, yeah?"  
  
"Yeah," Angel heard Spike say reluctantly.  
  
"I don't know who, or what they are," was the first thing she said. "But they're after the Amalgamated." Angel looked up in confusion, and she shook her head. "They didn't realize they had it in their hands."  
  
"Bloody hell, could you make some sense, please?" Spike complained. "Why the hell did they grab you, then?"  
  
"Because of the research," Angel realized, and Dev nodded. The Analects, as he'd told Willow, only told where the actually prophecies were. Dev had spent all of her life tracking down a great many of the texts, scrolls, and objects referenced in the Analects so that she might have what she needed on hand.  
  
"I thought I was being careful enough," she said with a shrug, pushing herself up on the bed and leaning against the headboard. "But I wasn't. They tracked at least four...acquisitions back to me, and figured there must be a reason why I wanted them. Figured I had a line on the Amalgamated." She laughed a little bitterly and drew her knees to her chest. "But I got the last laugh, right?" she drawled darkly. "Had me and lost me. It's poetic, isn't it?"  
  
"Where did they get you, luv?" Spike asked quietly, reaching out to pull her to his side.  
  
"Seattle," she said grimly. "They set me up. I thought I'd finally found a copy of the Hwopf Compendium." She made a choked noise. "I should have known better," she said harshly. "I just should have known."  
  
"No way you could have," Angel denied.  
  
"The fuck there wasn't," Dev snapped. "I've spent a century looking for the damn thing, Angel, and I was too excited to wonder why someone just contacted me out of the blue asking if I knew someone interested in buying it."  
  
Put that way, she was right. She probably should have known better, but he understood where she was coming from. From what they'd learned after her...creation, Hwopf answered a lot of questions about her existence, her purpose. It was the perfect bait. Especially since it was thought to not even exist, as he'd explained to Wesley when he'd learned the ex-Watcher was trying to find it to solve this mystery.  
  
"But they knew," she went on. Her head dropped to Spike's shoulder and her face was hidden by a curtain of purple hair. "They knew things about it. They might actually have the damn thing."  
  
"Where'd they take you, pet? After they got you?" Spike asked her.  
  
Angel would have given him a grateful look for handling the questioning, except that Spike was too focused on Dev to have seen it.  
  
"Some cave," she mumbled against his shoulder. "In the mountains in Washington. Didn't know that until I got out."  
  
Spike nudged her head until she lifted it. "Need some more details," he said.  
  
Her eyes lost focus, then cleared. "Details," she said with determination. "Right. Got me outside of the bookstore they'd lured me to. They're damn well organized, that I know. Tranqued me pretty good from a distance, and waited a few moments until it kicked in and I was out of my head before they surrounded me." She shook her head. "My senses were all shot, so I don't even know what they were. Loaded me in some kind of van and I passed out."  
  
It took effort to stifle his growl; Spike didn't bother. Dev smiled a little at the show of anger, but the smile faded fast. "Woke up in some rock room, chained down to some stone thing. They asked me questions. Basically wanted to know what I knew about the Amalgamated. Did it already exist? Was I trying to make it? Was someone else trying to make it? Didn't answer. Got tortured." She shrugged diffidently. "Repeat ad nauseum."  
  
Angel leaned against the dresser and tried to stay calm. The downplaying was typical Dev. Actually, it was pure Spike and had probably come along with his demon. Sharing wasn't something Dev did very much of, no matter the topic.  
  
His eyes strayed to Drusilla, thinking about Dev's influence of sanity on her, and he frowned when he realized she'd been staring out the window silently this whole time. He crossed to her and touched her hair. "Dru?"  
  
"Sh," she whispered, leaning against him. "Our Devil has a tale to tell and I have secrets to hear."  
  
Satisfied that Drusilla was as all right as she got, he pulled up the dining room chair they'd brought into the room a while back and sat by the side of the bed. "Tell me about who was keeping you," he requested of Dev.  
  
"Nothing I can tell you about that," she said, and anger pinched her features and darkened her eyes. "They were cloaked. Not just literally, either. Magically. Might as well have not been there for all I could sense them. Don't know if they were human, demon, neither or both." She closed her eyes and seemed to force herself to calm down. "I think there were about eight of them, but I could be completely off."  
  
"How did you get out of there?" Spike asked curiously. "Especially in the shape you were in?"  
  
She smiled grimly. "They had two rooms for the torture," she told them flatly. "One for the physical, one for the magical stuff. I played up being weak--not that I wasn't, but I was stronger than I let on--and surprised them when they were taking me from one room to the other." Her brow knitted in frustrated confusion. "I don't...I don't remember much after that. I wandered out of the cave and found a road. Stole a car and saw a sign for Washington. Gets kind of blurry from there. Just knew I had to get to Los Angeles."  
  
Silence fell as Angel absorbed that. "Cave's probably cleared out by now," Spike said abruptly, and Angel looked at him. "But that cloaking...not a common ability. Might be able to get a lead out of it."  
  
Angel nodded and rubbed the back of his neck. "I'll have Wes look into it."  
  
Spike's gaze sharpened. "Why not Willow?" he asked carefully. "And why isn't she here for this?"  
  
Lowering his hand from his neck, Angel met Spike's eyes squarely. "Because I'm sending her home," he said firmly.  
  
And this was where the problem would be. Not with Willow, even though it affected her, but with Spike. And with Drusilla, who turned from the window at his words and glared ferociously at him.  
  
"You stupid wanker," Spike growled, letting go of Dev and getting to his feet. "That's the last bloody thing you should be doing. How the hell are we supposed to protect her if she's not with us?"  
  
Dru bared her teeth and hissed at him. "The stars are screaming."  
  
"To hell with the stars," Angel snapped. "She's done all she can here and she's better off in Sunnydale now. This isn't up for debate."  
  
"Think, you ponce," Spike snarled at him. "You heard Dru's vision, just like the rest of us. It's not going to change just because she's not with us." He tossed his hands in the air and made a sound of frustration. "You're sending her off unprotected."  
  
"Buffy is more than capable of protecting her, if it comes down to that," Angel growled. "Dru's vision might not even come to pass if she's not involved any more."  
  
Spike stared at him incredulously. "Do you honestly believe that?" he choked out. "That's not how it works. And Willow knows it, too. I can't even imagine how you're going to convince her to go."  
  
Angel crossed his arms. "She's already agreed."  
  
*******  
  
The living room was dark and empty, much to Spike's surprise. He strode into the dining room and found Willow sitting in front of her laptop, frowning at the screen. He tilted his head to the side, not seeing any trace that she had a problem with leaving.  
  
"Think it'll be that easy?" he snapped irately.  
  
She jumped, a startled squeak tumbling from her lips. ""Spike? Huh? What are you talking about?" she stammered.  
  
He stalked forward and leaned over her, one hand braced on the table and the other wrapped around the back of her chair. He knew he had to look furious, but she just stared at him in confusion. "Think leaving will stop it?" he asked her tightly.  
  
She leaned away from him, still seemingly not understanding what he was talking about. "Spike..."  
  
"Your 'not really' death," he said clearly, taking hold of a wrist and hauling her to her feet. "Thought you would have known better than most that you can't run."  
  
She jerked her wrist and he tightened his grip. "Let me go, Spike," she said flatly, and something potentially dangerous slid behind her eyes. "I mean it."  
  
Spike arch a brow, waited one long moment, then slowly released her wrist. She didn't step away from him, however, just looked up at him with green eyes that weren't in the least angry, or hurt, or scared. "I'm leaving because Angel is making me," she told him calmly. "And because my friends are tearing themselves to pieces thinking I'm dead. I'm *not* running."  
  
"That's a technicality," he snapped.  
  
To his shock, she nodded in agreement. "You're right," she said with a sigh, a small smile flittering across her face. "I know how it works. So do you. I can't get away from it, no matter what I do. I'm walking right towards it and it doesn't matter what choices are made, because they've *already* been made."  
  
He closed his eyes in frustration. "Willow--"  
  
"Stop," she said firmly, and he opened his eyes again. "I can't do this, Spike. I can't discuss it and dissect it and try to figure it out. I can't."  
  
And he saw it then, the quickly pushed aside fear, and he realized how she'd managed to keep going so far. "Also can't ignore it forever," he said softly. "Not going to have that option after a while, either."  
  
She brought her hands to her face and pressed her palms against her forehead. "I know," she breathed shakily. "But I'll do it as long as I can."  
  
He took her hands from her face and looked into her lost eyes.  
  
A harsh laugh issued from her and Spike had to force himself not to tighten his hands around hers for fear of hurting her. "Nothing I do, or say, or think, or understand matters," she said, her voice high-pitched and a little frantic. "So I won't. Do or think or try to understand. Because it'll happen anyway and all I can do is wait for it."  
  
He did tighten his hands then. They'd fucked it all up. Despite their best intentions, they'd let her down in the worst possible way. They'd accepted her pretense of acceptance, had let her go on dealing with the truth by not dealing with it. Even after Angel had given all of them hell for it, they'd done it. And Angel was taking it a step further by sending her away.  
  
Spike let go of one of her hands and grabbed her chin none-too-gently. "That's where you're wrong," he said intently.  
  
She shook her head in his grip, and he knew that somewhere inside of her she needed to hear what he was about to say, because she wasn't trying to get away, just staring up at him with eyes that were scared and desperate. Oh, hell, they had really fucked up and it made his stomach clench.  
  
"You set the terms, luv," he told her forcefully. "No matter what, you make it happen on your terms. And you damn well know how to do it, Will. You manipulate others out of the Watcher's and then pin a vampire to a wall and show him what you're capable of. You *don't* wait until he's got his fangs to your throat to make him think twice."  
  
She went still, frowning up at him. "But...it's not the same thing," she said uncertainly. "I could have stopped you even if you'd come after me. No matter what I do here, it changes nothing."  
  
It was Spike's turn to shake his head. "It's the choice that matters. You chose to do that on your terms, and you can do this on your terms." He drew her closer by way of his hold on her chin, and brought his face closer to hers. "Damn well don't lie there and take it like some passive weakling," he hissed. "You're better than that, stronger than that."  
  
She blinked, and her free hand went to his chest, clenching a fistful of his t-shirt. "I don't know if I am," she said smally.  
  
"Yes, you are," he said quietly. "Seen it in you a dozen times over."  
  
Her eyelids slid down. "I'm so tired," she admitted softly.  
  
Of course she was. How the hell couldn't she be? She lived in a town where letting her guard down was deadly. She couldn't walk outside after sunset without fear. Couldn't call out an absent "come in" when someone knocked. She was targeted because of her association with the Slayer. She'd spent the last four and half years wary, constantly alert, and on her toes, able only to relax when the sun was up, and that wasn't even a guarantee.  
  
He pressed his forehead against hers. "That's where we come in," he whispered. "Let you rest so you're not so tired when it counts, yeah?"  
  
She swayed forward, and just as her body was about to come to rest against his, she stiffened and pulled away. Spike raised his head and frowned down at her as she took a step back. "I've already got a family," she told him. "They miss me and they're worried and I need them."  
  
Spike felt like she'd slapped him, and damned if he actually knew why. "Fine, then," he said curtly, turning and leaving the room.  
  
*******  
  
Willow curled up on her bed and tried not to shake. In the basement earlier, she'd thought that going home would still be easy. But now she knew better, and she was so damn angry at Spike for cornering her in the dining room and making her realize just what it was going to be like. She remembered when she'd agreed to be Dru's safe place, remembered thinking that it might be difficult to disentangle herself.  
  
Difficult was proving to be an understatement. Because even though she understood and agreed with Angel sending her away, it stung. And it had been so tempting, so very tempting to listen to Spike. To fall against him and rest completely, gather her strength in reality the way she could in her safe place while she was sleeping. But she knew she couldn't, because Angel was sending her away, and letting go like that for even a minute would make leaving devastating.  
  
Dawn had come and gone by now, and she was bone weary. So tired and drained that she wanted to cry. But she felt like she couldn't do that, either. She hadn't cried in so long that she had the feeling it would take hours before she'd get it all out. Maybe even days.  
  
And, damn it, nothing had been this complicated or painful just thirty-two hours ago. Things had been clear and simple. But since Dev had woken up, things had changed a thousand times. Angel was already cutting her out of the loop, Spike was back to trying to teach her lessons, and Willow just wanted things to go back to normal. Before Dev woke up normal, or before this trip normal. She didn't care which.  
  
Sighing in frustration, she got out of bed and grabbed her pillow and blanket. Getting to sleep in this room was going to be impossible, and she desperately needed to sleep. Stumbling from exhaustion, she made her way downstairs and the couch. Lying down with something solid on one side of her was better than being adrift in her single bed. And maybe she could wean herself off the need to be bracketed. Start with the couch and just one bracket, and eventually get to no brackets.  
  
Tossing uncomfortably, Willow feared it might be a decade or so before she reached that point.  
  
*******  
  
"For the last time, what happened?"  
  
Spike stared up at the ceiling and continued to ignore Angel as he'd done for the past ten minutes. Bad move. Apparently, he'd pissed Angel off enough times already. The hand that latched around his neck meant business, and the hold was impossible to break. Spike was left with no choice but to be dragged out of the bedroom and down the stairs, through the kitchen and down to the basement.  
  
The basement wasn't a good sign. Meant Angel was intending to get him to talk in any way possible, and didn't want Willow overhearing. Bloody fucking hell.  
  
Once they descended the stairs, Angel shoved him to the floor and glowered down at him. "I've let you get away with not answering a hell of a lot concerning Willow, but I'm done," he said icily. "Tell me why you came back upstairs looking ready to kill something."  
  
Spike considered whether or not he wanted to anger Angel further by getting to his feet, and decided that he did. Angel's face darkened as Spike slowly stood up, a smirk on his face and his eyes locked with Angel's. Just to add fuel to the fire, he drawled, "None of your business."  
  
Angel's fist was a blur that Spike managed to only partially avoid, and he grinned as he felt blood trickle from his nose. He was playing with fire here and guaranteed to get incinerated, but he just didn't give a fuck. They fought for a while, and Angel had the upper hand the entire time. Spike was working on anger and he knew it. He knew that he wasn't paying attention to blocking or setting up his own punches. Knew and didn't give a fuck about that either. But Angel got fed up pretty quickly, and Spike found himself on the floor on his stomach, both hands pulled behind his back and Angel pressing a knee against his spine.  
  
"You're not in control here, Spike," Angel growled down at him. "Not in any way, shape, or form. I want answers, and I want them now."  
  
"Sod off," Spike spat, one side of his face getting scraped by the concrete floor. "This isn't even real anyhow."  
  
And he felt Angel shift, heard the silky, infuriated words get whispered right against his ear. "What's real is that I am stronger than you are. I always have been. I always will be. Everything else can get flushed down the toilet, and that will remain. Tell. Me. What. I. Want. To. Know."  
  
Spike kept silent and braced himself for more violence, more pain. Instead, Angel flipped him over, pinning his wrists over his head, and just stared down at him with that scrutinizing gaze of his. And Spike didn't look away, because the only answers he had to give were there to see, and maybe Angel would know what they were better than he did.  
  
Lids slid down over dark brown eyes in a show of frustrated understanding, and he released Spike and sat on the floor tiredly. "There are times," Angel said wearily, "when I want to strangle Dru for turning you, William." Spike flinched and was about to get up when Angel continued. "Right about now, some simple, vapid moron would be a pleasure to deal with."  
  
Thinking that over, Spike couldn't fault him for that. There were times when he wished that he *were* simple and vapid. Made life easier.  
  
"We done?" he asked flatly.  
  
"Not even close," Angel sighed. "What happened tonight?"  
  
Spike sat up and ran his hands through his hair. "She's got a defeatist attitude about it," he said with a shrug. "Never seen in it her before, and it shouldn't be there now. Not if we'd done things right and proper."  
  
Angel rubbed his forehead. "You called her on it?"  
  
"Yeah." He really didn't know how to continue from there, quite honestly. Didn't know what about the entire scene in the dining room bothered him the most. "Said she was tired, and I told her it was our job to help her with it."  
  
"What did she say to that?"  
  
Looking past Angel, he shrugged. "That the Slayer and gang missed her and she needed them."  
  
"I see," Angel said quietly.  
  
Spike turned his eyes back to the other vampire. "Do you?" he asked archly. "Because I don't. We can take better care of her than they can, but she doesn't want to admit that and you just want her gone."  
  
"You really think that's what's got you ready to slaughter something?" Angel shot back at him, his eyes hard. "Do you honestly believe this--" He gestured around them with his hand. "--was about where she'll be *safer*?"  
  
That was the crux of it. He wasn't sure. "What else would it be about, eh?" he asked casually. "Me and Dru seem to be the only ones--"  
  
"Spike, cut the shit," Angel snapped. Spike blinked at him. "I'm not asking for the truth, because god knows you don't even know what that is yet, but don't feed me the half-assed lies you're feeding yourself." He frowned, and his eyes were shuttered. "She's not leaving to reject...us. And if you honestly have *her* interests in mind, you'll realize it's for the best."  
  
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Spike snapped.  
  
Angel didn't answer right away, and when he did, Spike thought there was a lot more that wasn't being said. Or that he wasn't hearing. "She's not one of us, Spike. No matter what we've been playing at to get along. I don't even need to know what happened when you two went for that walk to know that we're not the influence she needs."  
  
Spike narrowed his eyes. "You've noticed it, too?" he said with surprise, though he wasn't sure why he was surprised. Angel certainly had more history with Willow, and wasn't nearly as dumb as he sometimes acted.  
  
"Yes," Angel said grimly. "Nothing like seeing her vamped to get a taste for what she's capable of, given the wrong set of circumstances."  
  
That threw Spike for a minute until he remembered having heard a couple of off-hand comments from Willow and the others about some vampire version of her from another reality.  
  
"Doesn't change my original point," Spike grunted. "Which *is* valid. Dru's vision will play out, no matter where she is."  
  
Angel lowered his brows. "And my point remains valid, too: Buffy is more than capable of doing what needs to be done to protect Willow should the need arise."  
  
Spike arched a brow. "Yeah, mate? And do you intend to tell her and her Watcher about Dev? Put the news out there so that the bastards who got her know that she's what they were after to begin with?"  
  
"Give me a little credit, Spike," Angel said with displeasure, and that was good enough.  
  
"So, she's going home, then," Spike said quietly, looking away from a probing look Angel was sending him. "I'll talk with Dru, see about getting her calmed down."  
  
Angel got to his feet and held out a hand to Spike. "Let's get back upstairs."  
  
Spike let Angel help him up, and they trudged up to the kitchen and then towards the stairs. The sound of a heartbeat coming from the living room stopped them, however, especially since the entire downstairs was dark. They crept through the dining room, and edged into the living room, stopping in surprise when they saw Willow on the sofa.  
  
She was pressed against the back of her, her face buried against the cushion and one arm looped over the top. Even in the gloom he could see that her limb wasn't simply resting on top of the sofa back; she was clutching it, holding it. He stared, watching as her legs twitched until she crooked them and jammed her knees against the unyielding sofa back. He'd had her knees jammed against him on more than one occasion due to the cramped sleeping space the bed had afforded the five of them.  
  
He couldn't look away, and he didn't know that he'd made a move towards her until Angel took hold of his arm.  
  
"Spike." It took a great deal of effor to turns his gaze to the other vampire. "Let's go upstairs," Angel said sedately.  
  
Spike blinked, then nodded, following Angel out of the room and up the stairs.  
  
******* 


	13. Part 13

Five slept in a charming house in the suburbs of Chicago. Two slept restlessly. One slept warily. Another slept deeply. But the last, oh, the last slept busily.  
  
The last dreamed of a masquerade, where she danced and danced until there were no partners left who didn't slump and drag and seep as she twirled them about. Danced until the color left their faces and she was standing alone in the center of the ballroom. Above her head, the roof took off to tea, and the stars began chittering down to her as if it had been decades since they'd last spoke.  
  
"Stop," she cried out, her hands clasped over her ears. "For everyone a turn, and a turn for everyone." The voices battled to bend her ear, and she dropped to her knees. "I can't listen all at once! Not enough ears, not enough!"  
  
And beneath her, she felt the thump-thumping of food that was not food, and then hot hands placed wiggled under hers, and the thump-thumping was all that was in her ears. She looked up, and there were eyes of gems to meet her own.  
  
"Would you like to fly?" the bow beneath the gems asked, and she didn't understand why she would want to do that. Up high was closer to the naughty stars, with their layers of crinoline voices. The bow stretched and tilted. "Do you trust me?"  
  
She nodded emphatically, so that the bow might know that she truly meant it.  
  
And they rose. Left behind useless dancing boys who no longer danced like they were supposed to--and they would be punished for that later, oh yes they would--and went up past where the roof would return once his crumpets were put away. Climbed towards the stars, and even the thump-thumping could hear them.  
  
The bow turned down, and she laughed at the stars, because they had made the bow dip and the gems darken, and they were a power the stars didn't know. "There's too many of them," the bow told her.  
  
"The many mouths of one," she agreed with the bow. "But they never know what the others know. They can only tell me what they know."  
  
"If they were one, they would know what the others know. And they could tell you everything."  
  
"Yes, but they are many." And she didn't like that there were many, because there were stories they had to tell her: grand tales of glittering gems that might possibly shatter, rich wine that might stain a dress, a darkness that might be nothing but dark, and pain that might never end. "I don't know which comes first, then next."  
  
"Must you know? You never do."  
  
She stamped her foot. "Yes.  
  
"I can take you to a single voice," the bow told her. "But just once. So you must be sure."  
  
She tilted her head to the side. "Just once?"  
  
The gems and bow dipped down in a nod. "You only took one sip," the bow explained.  
  
"An eye for an eye," she said sagely, and the bow curled upwards. "Take me."  
  
A wave of air, whispering around the bow and gem, and then they were no longer climbing up, but stepping sideways. The sky slithered away from them, growing paler and paler, until it began getting lighter and lighter.  
  
"This isn't my sky," she murmured with a worried frown and they became still.  
  
The thump-thumping at her ears caressed her. "It's mine, and you're with me so you're safe."  
  
She thought about that for a long while. "Safe as houses?" she asked eventually.  
  
"Safer."  
  
The bow would know of such things better than most, so she nodded and they stepped again. And it grew brighter and brighter, and the light wasn't white like the stars, it was yellow.  
  
But something came to her, and she frowned. "I can only hear the stars."  
  
"I know. This is just a very big star. Are you sure you want to use your chance now?"  
  
And she nodded. "Absolutely."  
  
"Then closer your eyes," the bow instructed her, "and listen carefully."  
  
She listened more carefully than she ever had before. Listened to the story from start to almost-finish, her face crumpling with distress when the voice stopped after telling her of confusion and rage, some desperation, too. There was blood and death and agonized screams.  
  
"Sh, it's all right," the bow said calmly. "There are two endings. It's trying to decide which one to tell you first."  
  
"Two endings," she breathed, her eyes fluttering open. "Tragedy or romance."  
  
The bow and gems moved side-to-side. "They're both romantic, and romance is always tragic in its own way. The difference lies in how *much* tragedy."  
  
The first ending continued from the screaming. It went on for ages, and she didn't think it would ever end, but after it finally did, there was despair and then everything was changed. The voice paused, then started again. The second ending also started at the screaming, and she heard a pitter-patter, thump-thumping, and the screams ended quickly this time. There was hurt and confusion, and then everything was changed.  
  
"There's no difference," she pouted as they pulled away from the yellow star.  
  
"Not to you, no. But to them, there is every difference in the world." She opened her mouth, and the bow answered her before she asked. "They would want the second ending. Would only survive the second ending."  
  
"It didn't tell me what I should do," she said suddenly. Her eyes grew round. "Did I miss it? I listened, I did!"  
  
"You didn't miss anything," the bow said simply. "You know what comes first, then next. You know which ending they need. It's very clear."  
  
She supposed it was. The gems brought her back to the ball, where new dancing boys had come to take the places of the naughty ones, and she waved absently as the roof came back from tea.  
  
***  
  
The tension in the house was so palpable the next night that it made Angel's skin crawl. The vampires stayed in the master bedroom, Willow ventured upstairs only long enough to shower and change--from what Angel could hear--and then returned to the first floor without acknowledging their presence. As they didn't acknowledge hers.  
  
The occupants of the bedroom spent some time working on the puzzle of who had kidnapped and tortured Dev, once again not getting very far. Wesley was looking into who or what might have such a unique cloaking ability, as were several of Dev's sources--who she'd had Angel contact under a false name. After the two hours that took, they were left to wait for a call back. And feel entirely too uncomfortable to leave the room and encroach on Willow's privacy.  
  
Or maybe that was only Angel, who had seen far too many unspoken things in her eyes when he'd told her he was sending her home, only to find more in Spike's eyes when he tried to get the younger vampire to understand why it was necessary.  
  
And Dru wasn't helping. Not in the least. Though Spike had tried, she was still angry. Angel was getting a little annoyed by her constant hissing and snarling.  
  
"I wasn't going to ask," Dev said after yet another hiss made its way from Drusilla. Bland eyes traveled to each of the other occupants of the room as she wiped her cheek. "But this is the third time Dru's spit on me trying to get at Angel." No one said anything, and she frowned. "Could someone maybe tell me what the problem is?"  
  
Dru opened her mouth, but Dev reached over and placed her hand on Dru's lips. "Sweetness, I need some sense right now. Go back to hissing." Drusilla nodded and Dev removed her hand and looked at Angel, who didn't say anything.  
  
Spike didn't seem eager to start talking either, and Angel hoped Dev would just let it drop. Instead, she sighed from her position in the center of the bed, where she was sitting cross-legged.  
  
"Damn it," she exclaimed, her frustration and impatience seeping through. "This is the first time since Germany that we're all together without one of us trying to kill another, or one of us--" She gave Angel a pointed look. "--being completely unstable. If it's going to be ruined? I think I have a right to know by what."  
  
Angel just returned her demanding gaze with his best blank face, and she turned to Spike, a silky smile on her lips. "Come on, luv," she coaxed him.  
  
Spike lit a new cigarette and lifted a diffident shoulder in response. Dev's eyes widened almost comically and her wide mouth slipped open just a little before she reigned herself in and erased all evidence of shock from her face. Spike's blatant pandering to females he cared about had always extended to Dev, and Angel knew she wasn't used to him denying her anything- -much less something as simple as an answer. Then her eyes narrowed into dangerous slits, and Angel knew why.  
  
Dev connected differently with each of her sires due to the strange circumstance of her creation. Angel and Dev's relationship had been forged during long, complicated talks in which he'd counseled and guided her about the finer nuances of life that Spike and Drusilla hadn't been all that concerned about. As a result, it was a steadfast and level friendship.  
  
Drusilla and Dev had always been sisterly. Angel would have thought that it would be more...maternal--on one side or the other. But to his surprise, Drusilla had never fussed or fretted like Dev was one of her dolls, and Dev had never been condescending to or overprotective of Drusilla.  
  
Spike and Dev, though, they were something else entirely. Dev was so protective of Spike that the word "rabid" came to mind. To someone who didn't know and understand Spike, it would probably seem unnecessary, but to Angel, it made perfect sense. Spike was strong, fierce and he'd earned his reputation fairly. But to the few people he gave a damn about, Spike offered up everything in him, and was incapable of protecting against them in any way.  
  
Dev was one of those people, and she was hyperaware of how sensitive Spike could be. She did everything in her power to avoid hurting him even a little. And her hackles got sometimes uncontrollably raised if someone else tried. Angel and Dru were generally excluded from that last group, probably due to the power structure and sire/childe complexities. Angel also thought her behavior had a lot to do with the demon aspect she'd gotten from Spike, because he'd seen Spike go to extreme measures when those few he cared about were harmed.  
  
Spike's current behavior might as well have been a glaring neon sign. Something had nicked him, and he was trying to shrug it off. Dev had already been determined to get answers, but now there was going to be no playing around.  
  
"We brought Willow to Los Angeles the day after you got there," he began, leaning back in the chair in the corner of the room.  
  
Dev nodded, the slow motion indicating that she had no idea how this particular bit of information related to what she wanted to know. "I knew someone would be there," she told him. "A woman. Human. Got pulled from you to Dru when you helped me out of the sewer, and I saw a few things. I didn't know who it would be, though."  
  
That cleared up yet one more thing that had been dangling: how she'd known to set up that "recorded" bit of magic that had associated Willow with Dev in Drusilla's mind.  
  
"You probably got a glimpse of Dru's vision," Angel said thoughtfully. "In it, Willow helped you, and Spike went back to Sunnydale..."  
  
An hour later, Angel finished telling her of everything that had gone on during her bout of unconsciousness, leaving out a lot of the subtle and not- so-subtle undertones he'd picked up on.  
  
"That's all really...interesting," she said finally. "But I don't understand what the drama is about. We're talking about her going home to the Slayer who faced down the three of you and lived. Don't think she can get much more protected than that."  
  
Angel had the thought that maybe he should have at least alluded to the undertones, because there wasn't a way to respond to Dev without bringing them up.  
  
"Dru thinks Angel's trying to change shite he shouldn't be messing with," Spike said curtly. "She's displaying her displeasure."  
  
"And what about you, then?" she asked archly. "Because I'm not too clear about what kind of mood you're in right now. You were pissed at Angel, then you talked to Willow--"  
  
Angel shook his head minutely, but frantically, and fortunately for him Spike was too distracted by staring at the floor that he didn't notice. Even more fortunately, Dev saw it.  
  
She broke off and then nodded. "Well, now you're--what? Still mad at Papa Bear?"  
  
"Don't call me that," Angel grumbled.  
  
"Not mad at anyone, pet," Spike told her flatly.  
  
"The last time I tried to avoid answering you like this, you punched me in the face," she drawled. "What say we skip the violence, and you just give me a straight answer?"  
  
Just then, the house phone rang and a minute later Willow was yelling up to Angel from the first floor. "Wesley needs you to call him."  
  
Dev looked at the closed door. "Is she afraid of me?" she asked irritably. "Her scent is all over the room--all over the *bed*--but she's barely been up here since I got up."  
  
"Knives in hand," Drusilla spat. "Carving her away. Slicing through flesh and bone."  
  
"Shut it, Dru," Spike said icily.  
  
"I told you," Dru growled back at him, crawling around Dev on the bed to move her face very close to his. "And you said you wouldn't. But now you are. You'll force her to the wrong ending."  
  
Spike's hands clenched into fists, and his jaw tensed. Angel was out of the chair and across the room in a flash. He took hold of Dru's chin and forced her to look at him. "Drop it," he ordered her harshly. "It's not up to him."  
  
Dev was watching everything with hooded eyes, while Spike was staring at some point on the far wall. Drusilla pulled out of Angel's grasp and crawled back, baring her teeth at him. "She is up to him, and it is up to her. *You* have no say."  
  
"Goddamn," Dev exclaimed. "I think this might be worse than the three of you at each other's throats."  
  
"Drusilla," Angel snapped. "Try going the rest of the night without speaking. Or hissing," he added as an afterthought. "Spike, just--" Angel shook his head, not even sure what to suggest to the tightly wound vampire. "I'm calling Wesley back."  
  
"Don't I get an assignment?" Dev asked snippily.  
  
Angel glowered at her. "Stop poking at things you don't understand," he suggested coolly, and she had the good grace to look abashed.  
  
His motions sharp, Angel found the cell phone and called Wesley. "There's no reason why the shield shouldn't hold until Willow consciously lowers in," Wesley told him. "However, in order to do so, she will need physical contact. Also, Dev's own...talents will be unavailable until then."  
  
Angel gave a quick glance at Spike, who had gotten up from the bed and stood by Angel's shoulder to listen to the conversation. "Do it."  
  
He stared at Spike. "What?"  
  
"Send her home," Spike said casually. "She can pop over to L.A. when this is done and do away with the shield."  
  
Angel nodded slowly, eyes fixed on Spike's blank face. "Wes, talk to that guy we know in Chinatown and get papers for Willow. Once that's done, arrange for a flight out of O'Hare for her."  
  
"I'll have Gunn take care of procuring the documents," Wesley said. "Cordelia and I will continue to look into Dev's attackers."  
  
They hung up and Spike retreated to the bed once again to smoke his millionth cigarette of the night. Shaking his head, Angel went to the window and turned on the exhaust fan. The tension remained and the group fell into a thick silence that was broken not long before dawn by screaming. Willow's screaming.  
  
***  
  
Spike came to a skidding halt in the living room, staring at the scene in front of him. Willow was on the floor next to the couch, screaming for all she was worth, struggling and fighting, and completely asleep. "What the hell?" he muttered.  
  
Angel barreled past him, crouching down next to Willow and taking hold of her shoulders. He gave her a shake. "Wake up, Willow!" he called out to her.  
  
Fifteen minutes and ten more attempts to wake her up, and Angel admitted defeat and tried to make Willow more comfortable on the floor. Dev and Drusilla were standing next to Spike. Dev looked like she had finally given up trying to understand anything that was going on in the house, and Drusilla looked...at ease, strangely enough.  
  
Willow's screams had tapered off into terrified whimpers, and Spike took a deep breath and tried to stay calm. But when Angel let go of Willow's shoulders her hands shot up to her head and began to alternately pull at her hair and smack herself. Before Angel could gather himself to take hold of her hands, Willow scrambled to her feet and started to run. Angel managed to loop an arm around her waist before she crashed face-first onto the glass top of the coffee table.  
  
"She's going to hurt herself," Spike said tensely, and Angel nodded as he struggled to hold Willow without harming her. "Any chains or rope on hand?" Dev asked, and then widened her eyes when Angel and Spike both glared at her. "What? It'll contain her." "Bloody well not chaining her up," Spike snapped. Angel wasn't having an easy time, and Spike ran a hand through his hair. Willow was slight of frame, but she was thrashing around with the desperation and fixation of a...madwoman...He turned to Dru and raised a brow. "Give her a lullaby, pet?"  
  
His princess smiled easily and Spike wondered if she was the least bit surprised about any of this, given how calm she was being. He also wondered if she'd be willing to share the details with the rest of the class, but didn't hold out much hope that she'd be understandable even if she did decide to tell them anything.  
  
She was holding Dev's arm to support the other vampire, and she urged Dev closer to Spike so that he could take her place. Then she walked to Willow and Angel, gracefully sinking to her knees in front of them. Angel maneuvered Willow until she was in front of him, her back to his chest. He wrapped his arms around her chest and pinned her flailing limbs to her sides, while at the same time tossing a leg over both of hers and effectively trapping them.  
  
Her head thrashed from side to side, her eyes squeezed shut tightly. She screamed, loud and long, and the sound tore at Spike's calm.  
  
"Ease up," Dev snapped, and he glanced down and realized he'd clenched his hand around her arm.  
  
Once again looking at the trio on the floor, Spike frowned as Drusilla took hold of Willow's face and held her head still. Her nails dug into Willow's pale flesh, drawing blood. But her head was still, and Drusilla's eyes drifted shut. A moment later, Willow went unnaturally still and Drusilla began to hum and sing, and little by little the stillness relaxed into something natural. Within a few minutes, Willow had fallen into a normal sleep in Angel's hold, and Drusilla was getting to her feet again.  
  
Spike ran a hand through his hair as Angel set Willow on the sofa and covered her with a blanket. "What the hell just happened?" he demanded to know.  
  
"She doesn't like her dreams," Drusilla cooed softly, eyes on the ceiling as she gave a half-twirl.  
  
Right then, Spike wasn't a big fan of them either.  
  
***  
  
Confusion filled Willow's mind when she woke up from her nap on the couch and found that the television had been turned off, the lights had been turned on, and the vampires had congregated in the dining room.  
  
She sat up and frowned, wondering how she'd slept through all of that, including the not-so-hushed conversation they were currently having. Angel was telling Dev about Spike going to Los Angeles for the Gem of Amarra, and Dru was singing as she brushed Dev's hair. Spike was--well, Spike was not in the dining room.  
  
"You're up."  
  
She turned and saw him on the rarely used loveseat, face inscrutable as he studied her. She'd thought they'd all be keeping their distance until she left, and didn't think they'd come downstairs without a reason.  
  
"Yeah," she said hesitantly. "Is something going on?"  
  
"Depends," Spike said blandly. "Do you count having a violent, screaming nightmare that we couldn't wake you from as 'something'?"  
  
Willow froze and forced herself not to look into the dining room at Dru. Instead, she closed her eyes and tried to remember. She'd been having another nightmare, but had been unable to get to her safe place. And she'd tried so hard, but her physical exhaustion had followed her into the dream and she hadn't had the energy.  
  
Someone--and she suspected it had been Dru--had forcibly dragged her out of it and locked her in a study of some kind with Spike. Her eyes flew open as she went over Spike's words.  
  
"Violent?" she echoed, staring at him. "Did I try to hurt you?"  
  
"You tried to hurt yourself," she heard Angel say. Turning her head, she saw that the others had moved into the room and were staring t her. "Dru had to--" He waved a hand vaguely.  
  
"Whammy you," Dev said helpfully.  
  
"Oh," Willow murmured, then realized that Dev was standing of her own accord now, and was fully dressed. "Are those my pajama pants?" she asked, a little dazed.  
  
"They are," Dev confirmed with a small smile. "I was getting tired of just the t-shirt. Hope you don't mind."  
  
"No, it's fine," Willow mumbled, shaking her head and frowning at the news that she had apparently freaked out in her sleep. Big time, if the vampires' presence was anything to go by. She grimaced, then winced in pain at the motion. Very slowly, she lifted a hand to her face and felt numerous cuts.  
  
Her eyes found Spike. "Did I do this to myself?" she asked smally.  
  
"That was Dru," Spike responded. "You wouldn't keep still for her to get in your head."  
  
"Oh," she said again, lowering her hand.  
  
"Willow." Angel's face was grim. "You don't have nightmares like that."  
  
There was actually no way he could know that for sure, but she couldn't bring herself to insist that she did. Her only option, if she didn't want to get caught lying, was to stick as close to the truth as possible.  
  
"No," she admitted, pushing her hair back from her face. "But I also haven't been sleeping much. Or well. I'm usually a pretty lucid dreamer unless I'm wiped out."  
  
"Not that I know you or anything," Dev ventured, "but that seemed like not a normal nightmare."  
  
Willow couldn't help but laugh a little bitterly. "I don't come from a normal town, and it's given me nightmare fodder you wouldn't believe. Especially ones starring these three," she added, gesturing at the others.  
  
Angel winced, Drusilla tilted her head to the side, and Spike smiled just a bit.  
  
"What was it?" Angel asked softly.  
  
Willow shivered and grabbed onto the only other nightmare that had squeezed past her lucid dreaming talent. "Hellmouth opening," she said, swallowing. "The tentacles had me."  
  
"All that for some tentacles?" Spike asked suspiciously.  
  
"You weren't there," she said sharply, and then glanced at Angel.  
  
"It was rough," Angel confirmed tightly. "Did anything feel off, Willow? Strange?"  
  
She shook her head. "It was just a nightmare, except that I was too drained to do any of my 'I'm only dreaming' tricks."  
  
Angel seemed appeased, and more than a little relieved, upon hearing that. Of course, he didn't see the twinkle in Drusilla's eyes as she twirled past Willow.  
  
Willow risked a glance at the clock on the cable box, crossing her fingers and hoping she'd gotten a decent amount of sleep this time around. Her hopes were grounded into a fine powder when she realized it had only been two hours since she'd last looked at the clock before falling asleep. "Wesley's arranging for identification for you," Angel said into the silence. "It should be here in a couple of days and he'll arrange a flight to L.A. for you, and set up a rental car so that you can drive to Sunnydale." "Which is nowhere near safe enough," Spike said, his tone impatient. "Should have someone meet her there." Angel tossed him a glare. "And if he's being followed? It's too big a chance." Spike threw his hands in the air in exasperation. "The Slayer, then." Willow had never thought she'd ever see Spike recommend Buffy as a viable option. For anything. No matter what. "I'll be fine," she insisted. "But if it's that big a deal I can always switch flights so that Wesley doesn't know any details."  
  
"We'll play that by ear," Angel said after a moment. "Make a decision on it when the time comes."  
  
"All right then," Willow agreed, and then looked around. "Since you're down here and all, I guess I can let you know about some of what I've set up."  
  
The vampires finally decided to find seats and make themselves more comfortable. Drusilla sat in the middle of sofa, right next to Willow, with Dev on her other side. Angel sat on the armchair, grimacing slightly as it crunched under him. Spike's spilled blood had dried the cushion stiffly.  
  
"I paid the rent up for the next six months," she began, holding up a hand when Angel opened his mouth. "I know it won't be that long, but they can use the money to fix everything that Spike has, and will, destroy." He flipped her off and she shrugged. It was true, after all.  
  
"I've also ordered another laptop and it'll be delivered tomorrow," she went on. "I'd rather take mine with me, but if we can't transfer everything you need, then I'll take the new one. And I'll leave the bank card," she added. "If you want to take any of the stuff that we bought when you leave, go ahead. If not, you can leave it. Once you're gone, you'll need to let me know so that I can call the realtor and end the rental and make excuses for whatever's been done or left behind."  
  
The vampires just looked at her, and she shifted uncomfortably. "What?"  
  
They glanced at each other, then just shook their heads. Okay, so maybe she was behaving a bit like a parent or something, with all the arrangements. But, hey. It had to be done and she hadn't had anything better to do all day.  
  
She blushed slightly and got to her feet. "I'm going to get a drink. Do you guys need anything?"  
  
There was a trio of headshakes, and Willow made her way into the kitchen. Once there, she sat at the small breakfast nook took several deep breaths. Leaving as soon as possible was very important now, because she really didn't want to have to tell Angel the truth and deal with his anger about her lying. Of course, she was going to have a whole other group of people to hide the dreams from when she went back. Not to mention that she'd probably have to lie to them about what had gone on; Angel hadn't yet told her what the cover story was going to be.  
  
But, still, she could spend some quality time with Buffy and Xander to reassure them that she was alive, and then camp at her parents' house. There, the nightmares would go unnoticed if she slept during the day when her parents were at work. Glad to have a somewhat workable plan, she squared her shoulders and sat up straight.  
  
Only to see Spike in the middle of the kitchen, watching her with a frown. "Will?"  
  
"I'm fine," she said, trying to smile. His blue eyes narrowed on her and she exhaled shakily. She was really starting to hate the way he somehow always managed to just walk right past her defenses without even noticing them. "Okay, so I'm not fine," she admitted on a sigh.  
  
He arched a brow and sat across from her. "Feeling out of sorts?"  
  
She lowered her head and tried to work some of the tension out of her shoulders. "I really don't think some quality sleep is too much to ask for," she complained tiredly. "Do you?"  
  
"It's not," he said awkwardly. "You could..." Willow's brow creased as she wondered what he was trying to say. Spike shrugged and his eyes fell to the floor. "Didn't have these problems before, and there's room for you, is all I'm saying."  
  
Oh. She got it now. Perhaps if all of her synapses had been firing correctly, she would have been a little less artless in her response. But her mind wasn't really functioning at any higher level whatsoever.  
  
"I really want to," she said quietly. "But I think it'll make it harder to leave and be away. Alone. By myself. Without anyone else. And--well, you get the point." He was still looking away. "You do get the point, right?" she asked with concern.  
  
He nodded once. "Get it in all it's sharp and pointy glory, luv," he said lowly. He got to his feet. "Round yourself up that drink, then try to get some sleep again, all right?"  
  
She nodded and watched him stride from the kitchen. After the reminder of what she was missing out on, Willow the warm milk she made wasn't nearly as comforting as it might have been.  
  
***  
  
When the next evening rolled around, Willow thought that she might qualify for official zombie status. Her attempts at sleeping had been hindered by the fact that she didn't *want* to sleep. Just the thought of getting stuck in those dreams again had caused her to rise from her bed and busy herself.  
  
By the time the vampires stirred, she had already set up the new laptop that had arrived at noon, and transferred all pertinent information over. The kitchen had been scrubbed down, all laundry done, and every surface on the first floor dusted. She had held off on the vacuuming so that she wouldn't disturb them.  
  
Assuming that the vampires were going to be keeping their distance once again, she was more than a little surprised when Dev appeared in the living room.  
  
"Oh, hey there," Willow said awkwardly. She set aside the cleaner and paper towels she'd been using to clean the television screen and raised her brows at the vampire. "Do you need something?"  
  
"Yeah," Dev confirmed, coming further into the room and sitting on the couch. "I need to thank you."  
  
Willow tilted her head to the side. "Well, you're welcome," she replied, nonplussed. "I'm just glad I was actually able to, you know, help you. For a while I was pretty much useless."  
  
Dev lifted a lazy brow. "Useless? Hardly that, from what I've heard." Her face slid into serious lines, her eyes darkening. "I owe you a lot, Willow. For what you did for me and for them."  
  
Willow's eyes widened. "No, not at all!" she insisted earnestly. "Angel's helped Buffy and the rest of us more times than I can count--and believe me, I've tried. I think I'm still in the hole, actually."  
  
"I think that, between restoring his soul and this adventure," Dev drawled, "you're actually ahead of the game as far as Angel's concerned. As for me...I know what kind of shape I was in when I got to Los Angeles." She shrugged and looked away. "It would have been a lot of months before I woke up, and then many more before I was anywhere near the kind of shape I'm in now. And I owe you for that." She got to her feet and smiled a little. "Just keep it in mind, all right? In case you or the others need anything."  
  
"Okay," Willow agreed. "Are you okay getting upstairs yourself?"  
  
"More than okay," Dev laughed. "My muscles are used to moving again. Actually, though, I was going to look around. Haven't had a chance to tour the place yet."  
  
So Willow showed her around, her words more than a little slurred at times, which caused Dev to frown. But Willow was an expert at babbling, and she used it as a distraction. "...blood runs whenever we get low. It's human, which Angel was reluctant about for a while, but it keeps Spike and Dru from complaining about not being able to hunt. Plus, it kept their strength up better than animal blood when they were feeding you all the time. Are you going to be going bagged now? Oh, and do you eat people food, like Spike does? Because if so, I'll have to adjust the grocery and blood lists I made for you guys to use once I'm gone."  
  
"You would make a champion swimmer," Dev said incongruously as Willow closed the fridge.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Your ability to speak so much on one breath," Dev clarified. "Would come in handy swimming."  
  
Willow flushed a little with embarrassment. "But it also requires coordination, which I'm known to lack."  
  
"There you are," Spike said from the doorway. He arched a brow at Dev. "Said you were going to wash up."  
  
"I did," Dev said with a shrug. "Then I figured I'd get the lay of the land. Willow was showing me around."  
  
Angel came up behind Spike, his face creased in a frown. "Did you find--oh, hey," he said, spying Dev in the kitchen. "You're...up and about. That's good."  
  
"The computer's here and set up," Willow said suddenly, causing everyone to stare at her. She blinked a little, then shook her head. "Sorry, didn't mean to just toss that out there like that." She smiled at Dev. "Let me show you where I put everything."  
  
In the dining room, Willow knew she was garnering all sorts of bad attention, what with the swaying on her feet and the zoning out in the middle of directing Dev to the folder she'd stored the relevant documents on. Knew it, and felt helpless to direct the attention away.  
  
"Willow," Angel said firmly.  
  
She blinked and saw that not only was everyone staring at her, but had missed Drusilla joining them in the dining room. "What?" she mumbled, staring at Angel.  
  
He took hold of her arm and steered her into the living room. "You haven't slept, have you?"  
  
She managed to wrest her arm from his hold, and then smiled brightly up at him. "I'm fine, Angel. Really."  
  
Her vision seemed to waver, and then speed away from her at a great distance, and then she was screaming.  
  
***  
  
"That's not a damn nightmare," Spike snarled as Angel practically sat on Willow in an effort to keep her from beating her head off the wall again. She had started screaming and slamming herself into the wall ten minutes ago, and Spike was near to going on a rampage of some kind. "She was wide awake."  
  
"They're attacking her," Dev said from his side.  
  
Spike froze, then swiveled on his heel to stare at Dev.  
  
"She said they wouldn't be able to find her," Angel snapped, his words a little unsteady as Willow tried to buck him off of her.  
  
Dev shook her head. "They haven't found her, and they can't. They're trying to undermine her so that she'll lower the shield." Her eyes widened. "Hell-- the nightmares. That's what they were. She's too powerful for them to affect--"  
  
"Unless she's asleep and her conscious mind isn't in control," Spike bit out. "But she was awake just now," he said again.  
  
"And exhausted," Angel reminded him. "It's made her vulnerable."  
  
Dev nodded, and Spike realized that she had lied to their faces about the dreams. "That little, headstrong--" He broke off and felt himself shaking. "How do we stop it?" he demanded of Dev.  
  
"Can we lock them out?" Angel asked hopefully.  
  
"Willow is perfectly capable of doing it," Dev told them with a shrug. "That's what she's been doing since they started. She just needs rest to shore her defenses."  
  
Something about what Dev said was ringing a bell in his head, and he cast back in his memories to find out what. His eyes widened, and he snarled at Dru. "Rest," he said coldly. "You said she needed rest after she was 'sick'. You knew about this the entire bloody time."  
  
She nodded calmly, and Spike was almost on her when Dev hauled him back. "That's not going to help a damn thing," she hissed at him, shoving him aside and facing Dru. "Sweetness, did you do something to help Willow?"  
  
"Of course," Drusilla replied testily, much in the manner that she'd confirmed that, yes, her visions always came to tea when she invited them. "Kept all your drops in the cup, so I took her to a place."  
  
Dev frowned. "A place?" she repeated.  
  
Drusilla nodded. "Hm. Where she could be safe."  
  
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Spike ground out.  
  
"She gave Willow an escape hatch," Dev explained, not removing her eyes from Dru. "To get away from the attacks." Addressing Dru once again, she asked, "Did it work?"  
  
"Oh, yes," Drusilla confirmed.  
  
Spike briefly considered counting to ten to calm down, but tossed the idea out of the window almost immediately. "Then why isn't she using the hatch?" he shouted. "Why is she stuck?"  
  
"Weary to the bone and so very alone," Drusilla sang lightly. "I helped her before but now I can't."  
  
"Damn it, Willow!" Angel shouted. Spike spun around and saw that Willow had managed to shove the vampire off of her, and had crawled away, her body shaking and terrified. Agonized gasps issued from her lips as she blindly scurried towards something only she could see.  
  
Spike strode to her and lifted her in his arms. She struck out, whimpering, and he caught her hand. "We need a controlled space so she doesn't hurt herself," he told Angel flatly, moving his head so that he could see Angel around Willow's thrashing.  
  
But Drusilla came to them, a small smile playing on her lips. "Body and mind," she said solemnly, her hands clasping each side of Willow's head and her eyes drifting closed. "Come visit us, precious. Let us see those pretty green gems."  
  
For a few moments, there was no change. Willow continued flailing in his arms, and it was more than a little difficult to keep hold of her without hurting her, but Spike managed. Drusilla took several hits from Willow's limbs with alacrity, body swaying so that she could keep her hands on Willow's head.  
  
Slowly but surely, Willow began to settle down, until finally she was no longer struggling, but simply shaking something fierce in Spike's arms. A moment later, her eyes flew open and she sucked in a greedy breath as she looked around. Drusilla released her head and stepped back, leaving Spike to shift his grip so that he wasn't restraining her any more.  
  
"I didn't want to know," Willow choked out. "No. No. No." Her hands covered her face and she drew in on herself. "Didn't want to see."  
  
"It's all right, pet," Spike hushed her. "Was just a dream."  
  
Her hands fell from her face and she stared at him with side eyes. "Spike," she mumbled desperately. She flung her arms around his neck and buried her face against his throat. "Spike. Spike. Spike."  
  
Confused and more than a little shocked, Spike brushed a hand across the back of her head soothingly. "Right here," he assured her, looking helplessly at Angel and Dev.  
  
"She needs sleep," Dev said softly. "Lots of it. Without nightmares."  
  
"They won't come right now," Drusilla interjected, her voice certain and her eyes on Spike.  
  
"Did you hear that?" Spike asked the woman clinging to him. "Willow?"  
  
"Spike."  
  
"Yes, I'm Spike," he said a little impatiently. "You need to go to sleep so this doesn't happen again."  
  
"No!" she screamed, and Spike flinched just as much from the terror in the sound as from the volume of it. "Can't sleep!"  
  
"You have to," he said firmly.  
  
She started struggling again, and something wet fell on his hand. Tears, he realized. She was crying, and then she was sobbing, and Spike wondered if it was possible for an organ long dead and unused to break.  
  
"Stop," he said loudly, trying not to drop her. "Calm down, luv. Calm down." She kept at it, and his gut clenched. He knew that everyone was watching him, and he didn't give a damn. He couldn't take her being this upset, this scared, this desperate. Almost frantically, he pulled her tightly to his chest. When he spoke, his words were fervent and practically as desperate as hers had been. "Sh. Okay, all right. You don't have to sleep, pet. You don't have to. It's all right, you hear?"  
  
"Spike--" Angel began, but stopped when Willow settled in Spike's arms again.  
  
Spike closed his eyes when Willow buried her face against his neck again. Held her close and stroked her back before sliding his hand up to tangle it in her hair. There were about a dozen emotions battling for supremacy in him at the moment. Rage that someone had dared do this to her, combined with the desire go out, find them, and make them hurt. Awe that, even in the face of something that had reduced her to sobs and screams, she hadn't dropped the shield. Pride that she was so damn strong.  
  
But what finally won out was the overwhelming need to make it better for her somehow. To do something to ease the frenzied state of her mind.  
  
Opening his eyes, he walked to the sofa and sat, arranging her on his lap in such a way as to accommodate her grip around his neck. He sat with her until she finally drifted off to sleep. He sat with her when the others took a suspiciously subdued leave. He sat with her until she woke up, saw him, and fell back into an easy sleep. He sat with her until he could no longer keep his own eyes open, and then he lay with her.  
  
***  
  
Angel was sitting in the third bedroom that hadn't had an occupant in weeks, needing to be alone to contemplate what he'd just witnessed. Alone just wasn't to be, however. The door opened slowly and Dev came in, still wearing Spike's t-shirt and Willow's pajama pants. The pants were the right length, but too tight since her hips were wider than Willow's. She closed the door behind her and sat next to him on the bed.  
  
"Spike and Willow," she said quietly. "How long has it been going on?"  
  
Angel sighed. "They've been skirting it since he went back to Sunnydale, from what I've gathered."  
  
Dev leaned against him. "I look around, and it feels like I had to have been out for years. You're in charge, despite the soul. Spike's...not like I've ever seen him..."  
  
"He's subdued," Angel acknowledged, sliding an arm across her shoulders. "And confused."  
  
"About Willow."  
  
Angel shook his head. "No, actually. That doesn't exist for him yet." He considered that for a moment. "At least until tonight, I guess. He just doesn't know where to go from where he is. Or even where he is."  
  
"Been there," Dev replied. "It's tough. Especially for him and me. This damn demon is too passionate to make rational contemplation easy." She nudged him. "And what's Miss Willow? Besides a seriously powerful young thing?"  
  
"Astonishingly smart and very sensitive. Compassionate and caring. Loyal."  
  
Dev sucked in a breath; a habit she might have picked up from Spike, or that might have come with the demon itself. "That's exactly how you described William to me," she whispered. "William before the Bloody part."  
  
"And after," Angel admitted darkly.  
  
She turned towards him, her dark blue eyes studying him. "You worry too much," she finally said.  
  
His eyes widened. "And you don't worry nearly enough," he countered. "Did we just see the same thing down there?"  
  
She nodded and shrugged at the same time. "Yeah, but my perspective is different."  
  
"Why? Because you joined him in a bloodbath or two?" Angel snapped.  
  
Dev flinched and then glared at him. "Pots shouldn't call kettles slaughterers."  
  
"You had a soul," he reminded her angrily.  
  
"And I made a mistake," she replied in kind. "Many mistakes." She rubbed her eyes and shook her head. "And I'd really rather not get into this again."  
  
Neither did Angel, truth be told. It was hard for him to reconcile the Dev he knew with the stories he'd heard about her in Belgium with Spike and Dru. Which was probably how everyone who had experienced Angelus two years before felt about him.  
  
"How is your perspective different, then?"  
  
Dev's lips tilted gratefully at the change in subject. "Because I've been on the receiving end of Spike's indulgences, Papa Bear." Angel narrowed his eyes at her and she just winked at him. "As much as you've witnessed it, you can't know what it's like. Not entirely. So, you're worried about him hurting her, and I'd like to know the chances of the opposite happening."  
  
Angel considered that and realized the answer wasn't one he liked very much. "The chances are the same on both sides. And it'll go to an extreme, because both of them are extreme."  
  
"You do realize that he has absolutely no idea what he did down there, don't you?"  
  
Angel blinked. "How can he not know? We heard it, loud and clear. He had to have heard it *and* felt it."  
  
"Come on, Angel. This is Spike," she reminded him. "He takes a whole lot of baby steps towards some things. Gets nowhere near it, then suddenly realizes what's going on and leaps the rest of the distance. He's not ready to know, so he didn't notice it."  
  
Angel knew that about Spike, but he hadn't thought that even Spike's denial could extend so far. It was practically unheard of, what he'd done. "I don't know much about it," Angel admitted. "Beyond the basics."  
  
"Depending on how things go, I can get my hands on a copy of Lenton's Obscure Vampire Dynamics. It's supposed to be the most comprehensive source."  
  
Angel grunted. "How are you doing?" he asked abruptly.  
  
She adjusted to the change of subject swiftly enough. "I'd like to say that torture is old hat by now," she mumbled. "Wasn't the first time, and it probably won't be the last. But this was...an entirely different level. They got into my magic, and for some reason that makes me feel the most violated, the most vulnerable."  
  
Now wasn't the time to call her on the carpet about keeping the fact that she *had* magic from them, so Angel didn't broach the subject at the moment.  
  
"And I'm so damn angry," she went on. "That I got caught like that. That it took me so long to get out. That I had to leave without killing any of those bastards because I was too weak to fight. That I got absolutely no information about who or what they were." She ran her hands through her hair. "I'm sorry for showing up like that. I didn't know where else to go," she said so lowly that he almost didn't hear her.  
  
Angel slid off the bed and crouched down in front of her, setting his hands on her shoulders. "You went right where you should have," he said intently. "As much as things are nothing like they were back then, some things won't ever change."  
  
She lifted clouded eyes to him. "Even with my mistakes?"  
  
It was so hard, Angel reflected. So damn hard to remember that Dev had known about his soul longer than he'd realized, and had tried her best to live up to expectations that he hadn't even voiced. And because her only experiences were firmly grounded in the vampire hierarchy, he knew that however much her conscience hounded her for her mistakes, the fact that she'd let him down also gnawed at her just as much.  
  
He'd expressed his anger, his disappointment in her about her missteps, but he'd never offered her either the understanding of the only other souled vampire out there, or the forgiveness of her patriarch.  
  
"I don't think less of you, Dev." She frowned in disbelief and he struggled to find the words. "I know you were in a tough spot," he said eventually. "My disappearing act left you with only Spike and Dru, and you didn't have any human experiences to draw on. You did things you shouldn't have, but you realized it and stopped for no reason except that you knew it wasn't right."  
  
"It wasn't easy," she confessed. "I go to extremes like Spike does--worse because of the soul. Takes a lot to keep myself in the middle ground."  
  
He rose and kissed her forehead. "Most people don't bother." He made his way to the door, and spoke with his back to her. "I'm proud of you."  
  
In the master bedroom, Drusilla was perched on the edge of the bed, smiling wistfully. "Do you understand now?" she asked him, her eyes slanting meaningfully to the floor, below which were Spike and Willow. "Rumbles and pitter-patters."  
  
"Yeah," he said tiredly, removing his belt and crawling into the bed. "Do you know anything new, Drusilla?"  
  
"Oh, yes, but none of it answers what you ask. It tells how everything happens, but not what will happen."  
  
Angel closed his eyes. "Is there anything we can do?"  
  
"Show her," Drusilla breathed. "Show her she is more than one or the other."  
  
The mattress dipped as she moved up next to him, curling around him and petting his hair. A few moments later, Dev came in and joined them, Drusilla moving to the side so their childe could rest between them.  
  
***  
  
Willow became aware of being awake, which implied that she had been sleeping. Or still was. She wasn't sure, and she didn't want to find out. She laid wherever she was, eyes resolutely closed, and anxiety crawling across her skin. She remembered horrible images, worse than any other she'd seen yet. Remembered being sucked into Dev's position and feeling everything that had been done to the vampire. Everything.  
  
Her breathing started to speed up, but then she heard something. Coming from just under her head. It was almost like a growl, but not really. It wasn't menacing, or frightening...it made her feel safe, and secure. Like everything was going to be all right. Willow focused on the sound, letting go of the panic and fear she was feeling and let her mind slip away back into sleep.  
  
*** 


	14. Part 14

***  
  
There should have been embarrassment. Awkwardness. Uncomfortableness. Anything at all in Willow other than a feeling of contentment upon waking up and realizing that she was, well, *upon* Spike. Curled up on his chest and legs like he was a mattress. But there weren't any of those other feelings, and as her mind showed her glimpses of what had lead up to this, she couldn't even be sorry. She looked down at him and smiled a little.  
  
"Hi," she whispered.  
  
Spike reached up and brushed her hair back from her face, his hand almost, but not quite, lingering. "How are you feeling?" he asked quietly.  
  
"At the moment? Good."  
  
She looked into his eyes and wanted to say thank you, and sorry, and a whole lot of other things. But when she opened her mouth, he shook his head. "Save it for Angel," he advised with a grin.  
  
Angel. Definitely that conversation wouldn't be fun. At all. Not wanting to think about that just yet, Willow laid her head back down on Spike's chest. Her hand curled under her chin and she rubbed her fingers against his collarbone. He went still, but when she snuggled down, his hand crept to her head to pet her hair.  
  
A half an hour later, her stomach demanded food. Loudly. Spike tipped his head down. "Hungry, huh?"  
  
"Apparently," she murmured, not really wanting to move.  
  
Spike took matters into his own hands, sitting up and taking her with him as he did so. Willow made a face, then started to stand up.  
  
"Stay put," Spike said. "I'll get you something."  
  
Willow's eyes widened. She started to ask him why he would do such a thing, then thought better of it and closed her mouth. "Thanks," she said instead, smiling widely.  
  
He went still again, blinking slowly, then smiled back.  
  
Willow curled back up on the couch, snickering as the sounds of Spike's cursing made its way to her ears. She was a little twitchy, and still not entirely settled after the horrendous nightmares that had gripped her. Chewing her lip for a moment, she stared at the doorway to the dining room, then shrugged and got to her feet.  
  
Spike frowned when she entered the kitchen. "I told you to stay put," he griped. Willow was about to respond when he held up a slice of wrapped cheese. "Is this the only cheese we have? Processed shite?"  
  
"Um, yeah," she replied, tilting her head to the side and looking at the frying pan he'd taken out. "What are you making?"  
  
Spike shrugged and peeled the wrapper off the cheese slice. "Grilled cheese. What are you doing in here? Don't trust me?"  
  
Willow mirrored his shrug, and stared down at the floor. "I just didn't like being in the living room alone. Am I bothering you in here?"  
  
There was a pause. "No, pet. Not bothering me at all," he assured her lowly. Then his voice took on a more natural Spike tone. "You're going to suffer another defeat tonight. Jeopardy," he clarified when she looked up in confusion. "Gonna wipe the floor with you. Again."  
  
Willow narrowed her eyes and sat at the table, bringing her knees to her chest. "I don't think so," she countered. "I'm due for a win, and I feel lucky." She glared at him. "And I still think you should have to give your answer in the form of a question."  
  
"It's not my fault you've allowed yourself to be programmed to only respond in question form," he argued as he put together a sandwich.  
  
"But those are the *rules*," she insisted. "The whole basis of the game, in fact! You can't just toss the rules aside."  
  
Spike turned and slanted a look at her. "Really? And just why not?" he asked archly.  
  
Willow watched him set two sandwiches in the frying pan, which was already buttered and heated up. "Well...you just can't. If everyone did that, there'd be anarchy. Chaos, even. Rules are good, you know."  
  
She had another point to make, but she heard the sounds of the vampires moving around upstairs, and she went silent, her eyes drifting up to stare at the ceiling.  
  
"Not going to change my mind," Spike told her. "Break yourself of the habit, and maybe you'll be able to get your answer out before me."  
  
"Cheater," she mumbled, dropping her eyes. They fell silent, and Willow wondered if it would be exceedingly cowardly of her to flee the house before Angel made an appearance. She really didn't want to have to explain what she'd done, and there was no way around it anymore.  
  
She eyed Spike and thought that he wouldn't be nearly as upset as Angel. Or upset at all. So far she hadn't seen any anger, or annoyance, or irritation about what she'd been keeping from them. Instead, there was just this calmness to him. Unusual enough in Spike, to be sure. But during this trip, he'd reacted to every stupid, foolish, or thoughtless thing that she'd done. Which meant that he either agreed with her keeping the vampires out of the loop, or....  
  
Or something else. Something she decided was best not considered at the moment, when for all she knew Angel was still going to send her home.  
  
A plate clattered on the table in front of her. Spike sat across from her and lit a cigarette. "Eat up," he told her.  
  
The grilled cheese was good, and Willow didn't know if she was surprised or not. Grilled cheese wasn't all that difficult, but Spike had managed to rescue it from the frying pan in that perfect state of goldenness, touched around the edge with dark brown, and not at all burnt. That took, if not skill, then at least some familiarity with the task.  
  
"Yum," she said, smacking her lips. "Better than even my best attempt at grilled cheese."  
  
He cocked his head to the side and grinned at her. "One time only thing," he informed her. "Not happening again."  
  
She set her face in disappointed lines. "Darn," she exclaimed. "And here I was hoping you'd start making me food all the time. Living in the kitchen. Barefoot with a 'Kiss the Chef' apron on."  
  
He gave her a two-finger salute, and she laughed. "Relax," she assured him. "I appreciate it, but I don't expect it ever again."  
  
Spike eyed her suspiciously, and then nodded. "Good. Long as we're clear on it."  
  
A few minutes later, footsteps sounded on the stairs. Willow swallowed her last bite of grilled cheese and then fidgeted, eyes pinned on the entryway into the kitchen. Angel looked grim and angry as he stalked into the room, a grinning Drusilla and a blank-faced Dev following him in. Willow brought her plate to the sink, squared her shoulders, then turned around and faced Angel.  
  
"Hi," she said calmly.  
  
If anything, Angel's anger increased at her greeting. Clearing her throat nervously, Willow looked at Spike; his lips were the slightest bit upturned, even though the rest of his face remained bland.  
  
"Living room," Angel bit out, then turned on his heel and stalked out of the room.  
  
The atmosphere in the kitchen lightened considerably with his departure.  
  
"Really don't want to be you right about now," Dev commented. "Papa Bear's been fuming all day."  
  
Drusilla drifted over to Willow, her face soft and her eyes shining. "We were worried, precious. You mustn't do that again."  
  
Willow smiled. "I'll try not to, Dru. It wasn't much fun for me, either."  
  
Spike got to his feet and nodded towards the living room. "Come on, then. Time to face firing squad."  
  
"Right," Willow replied. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, then the four of them made their way into the living room.  
  
Angel was standing by the television, a tower of simmering emotions. Willow timidly shuffled to the sofa and sat down, Spike and Dru sitting on either side of her. It seemed like a sign of solidarity, though she couldn't be sure. Either way, she was glad she wasn't there by herself. Dev eyed Angel, then the sofa, and carefully sat on the loveseat, in between both of them.  
  
"How long?" Angel asked tightly.  
  
Willow didn't pretend to not know what he was asking. "Since just after the healing spell. It took a bit out of me, and I guess it was the opening they needed."  
  
"How bad?"  
  
Willow sighed. "Not very." Angel's eyes narrowed. "Usually," she amended. "That was about a hundred times worse than it's ever been."  
  
Angel nodded just once. "Why didn't you say anything?"  
  
Okay, so it was an interrogation and not a discussion. Right. "I was afraid you'd tell me to take the shield down," Willow answered. "And we needed it up."  
  
Angel's hands clenched into fists. "You don't have the right to make a decision like that on your own."  
  
Willow went still. "The hell I don't," she said angrily. "I'm the only one it affected, so it *was* my choice to make. And it's horrible, yes, but it's not dangerous."  
  
"Not dangerous?" he growled. "It's torture, and the purpose of it is to get you to lower the shield. Not to mention that you would have smashed your head in yesterday if we hadn't stopped you."  
  
"I didn't lower the shield, and I'm not going to," Willow reminded him reasonably. "What you saw? That's the max that they can do. They can't track us, and they can't reach Dev."  
  
Angel was about to say something else when Dev spoke up. "How?"  
  
Willow frowned. "Huh?"  
  
"How am I unaffected?" she clarified. "We're both under the shield. It's like an...umbrella. It should be affecting me, too."  
  
"Oh," Willow muttered. "That."  
  
Next to her, Spike groaned. "Bloody hell."  
  
"Willow," Angel said very, very carefully. "What did you do?"  
  
"It's hard to explain," she hedged.  
  
"Try."  
  
"I kind of separated Dev from me, magically. Then I covered up any traces of my magic that were on her."  
  
Angel stared at her silently, and Dev gasped. "Damn! You split your magic in half. That's--damn."  
  
Willow thought it best not to mention that it wasn't split in *half* but in *two*.  
  
"Any and all attacks went to you, and only you," Spike realized.  
  
"I had to," Willow told them. "They were reaching Dev, and it was upsetting her so much that she was fighting the healing spell. Once I did the split? Well, she started coming along really well. It worked."  
  
Angel's eyes were glittering furiously, and Willow crossed her arms. "I'm not sorry, and I'm not undoing it," she told him stubbornly.  
  
"The attacks wont' stop," Dev told her, studying Willow's face.  
  
"I know. But what's the sense in two of us dealing with them?"  
  
Dev continued examining Willow's face, then her own went slack with dawning horror. "Oh god," Dev rasped out. "The images I was seeing when I was unconscious. That's what *you're* seeing."  
  
Swallowing thickly, Willow looked away. "Pretty much," she confirmed.  
  
"Shit, Willow," Dev said heavily. "You should reverse it. Route it *all* to me. I've already lived through it; I can handle it."  
  
Silence fell, and Willow refused to look up, even though she could feel everyone's gazes on her. "Willow," Spike said sharply. She fidgeted for a moment, then looked up at his tight face. "You're seeing Dev's torture?"  
  
She nodded, then shook her head. "It's all really...vague, and disjointed."  
  
Yes, she was clearing up the old lies and replacing them with a half-truth. But it would keep the vampires from having even more of a conniption fit than they were already having. Angel rubbed the back of his neck and then moved to the loveseat to sit next to Dev. His body sank down tiredly.  
  
"You can't go back home," he said eventually.  
  
"I can, actually," she countered uncertainly.  
  
He gave her a look. "I'm not sending you home to deal with this on your own, and we still can't let anyone else know what's going on."  
  
Willow hesitated, and then nodded. Truthfully, if even a portion of what she was remembering from the previous day was correct, she didn't want to deal with it alone anymore than Angel wanted her to.  
  
"You have to stop," Dev said drolly, raising her brows at Willow. "Keep it up, and pretty soon I'll owe you my firstborn."  
  
"Which means she'll never get paid," Spike snorted.  
  
"I'd offer my first sired," Dev said consideringly, "but that would be difficult since I dusted him last year."  
  
"Oh, nice," Spike snapped. "And after the hell you raised to keep *me* from staking the tosser." He pointed at her. "You owe me an argument."  
  
Dev nodded. "Fine. You get an automatic win. Just call it."  
  
"Are we all squared away, then?" Spike asked Angel. "Cause, if so, then it's time for Jeopardy."  
  
Willow started, her eyes flying to the clock. "I slept that long?" she moaned. "Geez."  
  
"Yeah, you two slept that long," Dev confirmed slyly. "Lucky he doesn't have circulation, or else his entire body would be numb right about now."  
  
Feeling herself color profusely, Willow stared down at her lap.  
  
"Done?" Spike asked archly.  
  
"Done," Angel said in defeat. Willow glanced up and saw him get to his feet. "Don't keep anything else to yourself, Will," he told her. "I mean it."  
  
She nodded. "Okay."  
  
"We're going out, precious," Drusilla sang. "You can come next time."  
  
"Angel's letting me out in the wild," Dev drawled, standing. "Under his watchful eye, of course. Sweetness wasn't about to be left home. I'm going to do some shopping, since I've got nothing with me."  
  
Willow eyed the clothes Dev was currently wearing. "You can keep the jeans."  
  
"She wears them properly," Spike said approvingly, and Willow glared at him. "Now get the hell out of here, yeah? It's time for Jeopardy."  
  
He took the remote from the coffee table and switched the television on. Drusilla wafted to her feet and joined the others.  
  
"We'll be back before dawn," Angel announced. "Call if you need anything, or if Wesley calls with anything new."  
  
Willow nodded and Spike called out an absent "bye", his eyes fixed on the television.  
  
They watched Jeopardy, and they tied. Spike got all the history questions. Willow got the long awaited science and nature questions. They split geography and entertainment down the middle. Willow was actually quite pleased. It wasn't a win, but it wasn't a loss.  
  
She was also quite in the mood for a shower. She'd been sweating during the nightmares, apparently, and her skin felt more than a little gross. And she really needed to brush her teeth. It was surprising that Spike hadn't said anything yet.  
  
"I'm going to shower," she told Spike, getting to her feet. He waved her away as he flipped through the channels, and she grinned in appreciation of the normalcy of the action.  
  
She lingered in the shower, washing her hair twice and letting the condition sit while she took care of the rest of the necessities. The water was hot, and her skin was red by the time she stepped out and dried off. She pulled on her pajamas and wrung the excess water from her hair with a smaller towel. As she was gathering her discarded clothing, she knocked over a bottle of lotion and it bounced loudly on the floor. She put it back on the counter and opened the bathroom door.  
  
Spike was there, face tense and eyes alert. "I heard something," he told her. "A crash."  
  
Blinking, Willow looked behind her at the lotion bottle, then back at Spike. "I dropped something, that's all," she told him slowly.  
  
"Oh. I thought..." He looked away, and Willow's heart jumped.  
  
"Not a freak out," she assured him quietly. "I swear. I don't think it'll happen again as long as I sleep regularly and don't get drained."  
  
He relaxed and nodded. "Good."  
  
They stood there for a while, at first in awkwardness, but then in something else entirely. Their eyes locked and they just stared at one another. "Thank you," Willow whispered eventually.  
  
Spike took a step closer and shook his head, eyes not leaving hers. "Don't have to thank me, pet," he whispered back. His hand came up hesitantly, dropping every so often only to continue lifting, and finally his fingers grazed the nail marks on her face. "Should put something on these."  
  
"They're fine," Willow said softly.  
  
His fingers drifted from one mark to another, and Willow finally reached up to take his hand in hers. She laced her fingers through his and his eyes settled on their entwined hands, something soft and surprised coming to Spike's features.  
  
"Thank you," she said again, and he raised his eyes to her. She let their joined hands fall to their side, and stepped forward to lean her head against his chest.  
  
It was stupid. She knew it. Angel wasn't sending her home, but that changed nothing, really. Eventually she'd go home, and Spike would go...wherever. And this little lull in their lives would come to an end. It was going to be hard enough to deal with as it was, and she really shouldn't complicate it.  
  
But it was too late, and she knew that as well. It had gotten complicated when Spike had lain with her on the couch. It had gotten complicated when Willow hadn't pushed things back to normal when she'd woken up sprawled on top of him. So then he'd made her food, and now she was leaning against him with her eyes closed, and it was too late for anything sane to enter back into the equation.  
  
Spike wrapped his free arm around the small of her back and pulled her close, and they stayed that way for minutes, or hours, or years. Until finally his arm moved from her back, and then he was tipping her face up with his hand.  
  
"Suppose I should fill you in on what Angel was keeping from you," he murmured.  
  
"That'd be nice," she acknowledged.  
  
They made their way downstairs and settled on the sofa, and it wasn't until he was halfway through Dev's escape story that Willow realized they were still holding hands.  
  
***  
  
"So, you're mad because she was right?"  
  
Angel tried to stay calm. "No, I'm mad because she hid what she did."  
  
Dev rolled her eyes and absently reached out to snag Dru's arm when the other vampire would have wandered off. She linked her arm through Dru's, then arched a brow at Angel.  
  
"I don't see what it matters," she said reasonably. "Either you would have told her to do it, in which case we'd be in the same situation. Or you would have told her not to do it, in which case, she would have done it anyway and we'd be in the same situation." She veered to the right. "In here, Papa Bear."  
  
"Stop. Calling. Me. That."  
  
Dark blue eyes glittered up at him. "Never and a day," she said fancifully, walking with Dru into a store called Hot Topic.  
  
"Christ," Angel muttered, looking around.  
  
"Yeah, it's pretty horrid," Dev conceded. "But since that Army-Navy store closes so early, we were stuck coming to a mall. This is the lesser of all evils contained herein--and only marginally." She let go of Dru's arm, and they kept a careful eye on the other vampire as Dev headed to a rack of pants. "Though it would be amusing to head back to the house with a slew of Gap bags," she mused. "That'd really put Spike in a mood."  
  
Angel lowered his brows, and she held up her hands. "I wouldn't, I wouldn't."  
  
A few minutes later she had three pairs of pants she found acceptable, and two pairs that she thought Willow would look good in. Angel shook his head. "She wouldn't wear them," he said immediately.  
  
Dev shrugged and put them back. "I figured. Her taste *is* mall-ish."  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Drusilla talking to someone behind the counter, and made his way over. "--that pretty bauble there," she finished, tapping a nail against the glass.  
  
Angel looked down at what she was pointing at, then nudged her in Dev's direction. "Go help Dev. I'll get the bauble," he assured her.  
  
The salesperson blinked, then shook his head. "Uh, she left without taking whatever she wanted," he murmured. Then his eyes widened, and he cleared his throat. "Can I help you with something, sir?"  
  
Angel had the clerk take out the necklace Drusilla had been pointing at, and had it rung up with the rest of Dev's purchases. "Are we done?" he asked irritably as they walked out of the store.  
  
"Not yet," Dev said sympathetically. She motioned to Angel's other side, and he reeled Dru in before she got too close to the wishing fountain. "One more stop and then we can get the hell out of here. Believe me, it's not much fun for me, either."  
  
Their second and last stop was a ladies underwear store, and Angel backed up until he bumped into a bench. "I'll just wait out here," he mumbled, sitting down in the midst of three other males who'd opted against going inside.  
  
Dev shrugged and tugged Dru inside with her.  
  
The young man next to him tilted his palm out, revealing a small television. "Want to watch the game with me?" he offered.  
  
***  
  
Willow was sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table in the living room, typing on her laptop, when Angel, Dev and Dru returned from their outing. Spike was sprawled on the couch, one hand casually playing with a lock of Willow's hair, and the other pointing the remote at the television.  
  
"How was the excursion?" Willow asked cheerfully when she saw them.  
  
"Successful, and just what I needed," Dev said heartily as she went to the sofa and lifted Spike's legs. She sat on the couch and let them drop in her lap. "I was going to get you something," she told Willow. "But Angel told me to put them back."  
  
Willow pouted and looked at Angel. "You denied me presents?"  
  
"Leather pants," he informed her with a small smile.  
  
"In that case, thank you," she replied, shuddering dramatically. "Bad, icky memories of leather pants." She tilted her head, and remembered that in addition to donning them to impersonate her vampire self, she'd always worn a pair in her failed attempt to...well, keep Oz. "And sad memories, too," she tacked on, shaking her head.  
  
"But he didn't make me put mine back, precious," Drusilla sang lightly, reaching into a bag and pulling out a small square of tissue paper. She brought it to Willow, who smiled delightedly and took it.  
  
"Aw, you didn't have to get me something, Dru," she said as she pried up the piece of tape keeping the tissue wrapped around its contents. Inside the pale white tissue was a black-corded necklace with a rather lovely ankh on it. "Oh, wow! I love it."  
  
Drusilla reached for the necklace and smiled as she held it up. "Two that come together and form life," she said vaguely, motioning at Willow to hold up her hair. Willow did so, and Drusilla handed the necklace to Spike. "Put it on her, Spike," she cooed.  
  
"Fine," Spike said, long-suffering. He set the remote down and swung his legs to the side. Willow leaned back and he brought the necklace around the front of her neck, then did the clasp at the back of her neck. "Turn around. Let's have a look at it."  
  
Willow shifted around, banging her knees against the coffee table in the process. She raised a brow at Spike, and he shrugged. "Dru's got good taste. Suits you."  
  
"Cool," Willow said with a grin, then reached over to hug Dru, who was on her knees next to Willow. "Thanks."  
  
Dru returned the smile, and pressed a kiss to Willow's cheek before leaning back.  
  
"I'm surprised you're still up," Angel commented, and Willow shrugged.  
  
"I figured I should try to get back into the routine, so I've been keeping myself awake by typing up the stuff Spike passed on about what I've missed." She frowned at the screen, then looked at Angel. "I don't understand the whole Hwopf thing."  
  
"What part of the Hwopf thing?" he asked.  
  
"Well, why aren't we looking for it anymore?"  
  
"Because it doesn't exist," Dev said testily. Angel stared at her and she sighed. "Fine, it might exist--but I don't think it does since I haven't been able to find it--but even if we could track it down, it probably wouldn't do any good to the situation."  
  
"Okay," Willow said slowly, chewing her lip. "But here's the part that confuses me. The Analects? They point to prophecies and events that, well, star you. Right?" Dev nodded. "From what Wesley noticed, the books that the prophecies are in are pretty much generic. They're not Amalgamated-centric. So how is it that the Analects point to Hwopf, which is supposed to be entirely about you?" She shook her head. "I know it seems silly, but it's a big inconsistency, and things like this are only inconsistent for a reason."  
  
"Beats the hell out of me," Dev said irritably. "Welcome to the eternal question that is my bloody existence."  
  
"I think we're getting off the point, here," Angel put in. "Once this is all done, if you want to help Dev figure some of this out, you can. But unless it has something to do with who took her, and why they wanted the Amalgamated, we can't focus on it."  
  
Willow nodded in agreement, but she had to wonder if maybe it *did* have something to do with their current situation. Because Spike had explained to her just how long and hard Dev had been looking for Hwopf, and how she'd been lured in with details that had made her believe her captors actually had it. And if they did, maybe what was in the compendium was the reason they wanted Dev.  
  
"No word from Wussley," Spike informed Angel. "But one of Dev's people called back."  
  
Angel tensed and glared at Spike. "I told you to call me if that happened."  
  
"You got back before we could," Willow explained. "It was, like, five minutes ago."  
  
"Oh," Angel muttered. "Which one was it?"  
  
"Paul, and he would only talk to you," Willow told him. "His number's on the dining room table."  
  
"Paul's a good one," Dev said with a smile. "Whatever he tells you is bound to be solid. Reliable."  
  
Angel nodded and headed to the dining room. "I'll call him back now."  
  
Willow shut down the laptop and yawned. "I'm going to turn in."  
  
Drusilla tilted her head to the side. "You shouldn't sleep alone, precious. You need your safe place."  
  
Spike and Dev frowned in confusion, but Willow knew what Drusilla was talking about. "I can get there," she mumbled, determinedly not looking in Spike's direction.  
  
Drusilla smiled sadly. "It's not enough," she whispered. "You need--"  
  
"I'll be fine," Willow interrupted her. "Really. Night everyone."  
  
She hurried upstairs, knowing everyone was staring at her, but not caring. Yes, sleep had been easy and fine when her safe place had been replicated in reality--when Spike had been with her. But she was back on an even keel again, and she would be fine. She would.  
  
***  
  
Spike had to force himself not to follow Willow upstairs and shake some sense into her. He wasn't sure what Dru's comment was about, but it didn't matter. There was something else Willow could be doing to keep those bastards from shoving those images into her mind. And she was being too stubborn to do it.  
  
"So," Dev said idly, drawing his gaze away from the stairway.  
  
"What?" Spike asked defensively.  
  
Dev shrugged. "Why aren't you going upstairs?"  
  
There had to be a deity out there that would help a vampire out at times like these. Maybe start a spontaneous fire that grabbed everyone's attention. Or rendered a certain childe of his mouthless so that she couldn't ask questions she had no business asking.  
  
Spike picked up the remote and changed the channel on the television. Dev, however, was too much like him to let something go when it was obviously hitting a nerve. And that was why the two of them had never been able to be in each other's company for long periods of time. Things eventually degenerated to shouting matches and fists before one of them stormed off.  
  
"You always go for what you want," Dev said. "Always. Even if it's about the stupidest thing to do. Even if what you want is the last thing you need. So if you want to go upstairs, then what the hell are you doing sitting down here staring at some guy cutting a can in half with a knife?"  
  
"You know how after about a month of us cohabitating we generally trash wherever we're staying in a magnificent spot of violence?" Spike said irritably, slamming his finger down on the power button to turn the television off. "Well, I feel one of those coming on if you don't shut your bloody mouth."  
  
"You're on your own for that," Dev replied immediately. "I've picked up on how uptight Willow's being about the security deposit, and I owe her too much to add to the damages. But I'll let you off the hook for answering the question, and clue you in on something that you're obviously clueless about."  
  
"Dev," Angel said from the doorway. She ignored him and kept looking at Spike. "That's not a good idea," Angel continued.  
  
Spike couldn't have agreed more. He had the thought that he wasn't going to like what she was about to say. At all. "What did that bloke say?" Spike asked Angel.  
  
"Tell him, Devil," Drusilla sighed.  
  
"Dru!" Angel bit out.  
  
She shrugged and her head lolled to the side. "It's to come out sooner or later."  
  
Spike got to his feet. "Look, feel free to keep on going with this cryptic stuff," he said snidely. "I'm going to drink my dinner."  
  
"Do you realize what you did last night, Spike?" Dev said loudly, causing him to come to a sudden stop.  
  
He lifted a shoulder diffidently. "Calmed her down," he said without inflection. "Helped her get some sleep."  
  
Warning alarms were blaring in his head, because if it was that simple then Dev wouldn't be bringing it up, and Angel wouldn't have been telling her not to bring it up.  
  
"You soothed her," Dev said quietly.  
  
Spike rolled his eyes, then turned on his heel to arch a brow at her. "Isn't that what I said?"  
  
"Spike."  
  
That was Angel, in a very careful voice. The alarm bells grew louder, and he really didn't want to look at Angel, but he did. And the alarms became deafening when he saw Angel's intense look.  
  
"You *Soothed* her," Angel said, and it took Spike a minute to make sense of the words.  
  
"Tell me you're just fucking with my bloody head," he gasped when he understood the import of what Angel had said.  
  
Silence. From everyone. It was all the confirmation that Spike needed.  
  
"You really didn't know you did it?" Angel asked.  
  
"No, I bloody well did *not* know," Spike snarled, and Dev sent a smug look in Angel's direction. Spike grabbed at his stomach. "I think I'm going to be sick. Just when I think nothing can get worse, something else happens."  
  
"Calm down, will you? This isn't necessarily a bad thing, Spike," Dev told him.  
  
Spike gaped at her. "Not necessarily a bad thing?" he exclaimed. "She's *Willow* for fuck's sake!"  
  
"Look," Angel sighed in resignation. "You didn't *try* to Soothe her, you *did* Soothe her."  
  
Spike was smacking his forehead with his palm repeatedly, and it took a moment for Angel's words to sink in. He choked. "Once again, it gets worse."  
  
He made his way in a shocked daze to the stairs and starting climbing them. On the second floor, Willow was making her way from the bathroom to her room, and Spike froze like a deer in the headlights.  
  
"Hey, are you..." she began, but drifted off when Spike just gaped at her. "What's the matter?" she asked with concern. "Are you okay? Did something happen?"  
  
Spike managed to shake his head, and he left her staring after him as he went down the hall, making his way to the third bedroom and collapsing on the double bed. "Bloody hell," he muttered, covering his face with his hands.  
  
It was...well, not unheard of, but rare. So damn rare. And now that he thought about it, he could pick out a handful of instances when Willow had Soothed him. When the beat of her heart had changed subtly and he'd calmed down when it was the last thing he was thinking about doing.  
  
And when he thought about last night carefully, he realized that the reason Willow had calmed down, the reason she'd pressed her face against his throat, was because he'd been making a noise that she'd been responding to.  
  
Completely involuntarily. Which was the kicker in all of this. If it were up to Spike, this wouldn't exist. There would be no connection between him and Willow of any kind. None at all. Because, as he'd told the others, she was *Willow* and she was...the poster child for everything that he wasn't. And outside of this little non-real bubble situation they were in, it was highly unlike they'd do anything but revert to their former state of enemies.  
  
But it wasn't up to him, and he didn't know enough about the phenomenon to know how to put an end to it. All he could do was ignore it. Pretend it wasn't there. Even if his throat was currently issuing some kind of cross between a growl and a hum. Damn.  
  
Willow was upset about something. That much he did know about how all of this worked. She was upset, and she didn't want to be. And whether she knew it or not, she was putting out a call. And whether he wanted to or not, he was responding. But just because his throat insisted on making some kind of unnatural noise didn't mean he had to let her hear it.  
  
***  
  
Angel wasn't sure when it had happened, but somewhere along the way he'd lost control of everyone. Willow had been doing her own thing, Spike wouldn't listen unless Angel forced him to, Drusilla was off in her own little visions, and Dev had apparently decided that she knew what was best for Spike.  
  
"Just tell me why you thought that was a good idea," Angel said tiredly. "Weren't you the one talking about letting him get somewhere on his own?"  
  
Dev busied herself by threading her fingers through Dru's hair. They were still in the living room, trying to let Spike have at least a little bit of time to himself.  
  
"Yeah, but he was playing with her hair. And I think he actually made her food."  
  
Angel rubbed his forehead. How the hell had he forgotten just how difficult it was to deal with these vampires of his? Not to mention Willow, with her stubbornness.  
  
"You've just sent every wall he has slamming into place. Dealing with him isn't going to be fun for any of us, least of all Willow."  
  
Drusilla was lying across Dev's lap, and she slithered into a sitting position. "No walls," she said with certainty.  
  
"See?" Dev said smugly. "No walls. All I've done is give him a little nudge, now he'll take the leap. Simple, non?"  
  
Angel studied her and wondered if she'd actually paid attention to anything he'd told her about the Scooby Gang, if she'd actually listened to Spike's diatribes on the subjects when she'd spoken with him before this incident.  
  
"It's not simple," he said lowly. "It's one more complication on top of a whole pile of complications. Neither one of them need it."  
  
She rolled her eyes. "So says the one who sees only destruction on the horizon and forgets that there's another possible outcome."  
  
Angel was quite suddenly done being the voice of reason. No one appreciated the effort, or heeded it, or even wanted to hear it. "I give up," he murmured.  
  
"Good for you," Dev said with a nod.  
  
***  
  
Spike figured he held out for an hour. During which he was aware of nothing but the noise in his throat, even though he hadn't noticed it the night before. During which he discovered that he couldn't bloody smoke when it was happening. During which he thought about nothing besides what was possibly wrong with Willow. And then he gave up, and he strode down the hall to her room, not allowing himself to think anything.  
  
She'd moved the bed against the wall, and had her back pressed against it. Her arms moved constantly to the empty space next to her, a distressed frown on her sleeping face as her hands found nothing to hold on to.  
  
He took three steps into the room, and the sound reached her ears. The frown left her face and her hands stopped grasping. Spike eyed the bed, then shook his head. No way was he cramming himself into that small space with her. Not when there was a larger space available down the hall.  
  
He brought her, blanket and all, to the third bedroom, and kicked off his boots. Then he laid down, setting her on his right side--the side that had been feeling unaccountably cold since she'd stopped sleeping in the master bedroom with the rest of them. She curled around him immediately, sighing.  
  
Spike tried to continue not thinking, but it was a futile effort. This thing with Willow--whatever it was--it wasn't something he'd wanted, or even thought of. And it wasn't something he thought would turn out even remotely close to okay for either of them. In fact, all things considered, he'd say it was about the last thing he would have wanted.  
  
But it had happened. No matter how much he'd been trying to deny it and ignore it, or how hard he'd been trying to explain it away with hierarchal obligations or--in the case of that frozen moment on the basements stairs when she'd been wearing the orange shirt she had yet to don again-- convenience.  
  
It wasn't about the human who was helping them, or the attractive body being presented to him at just the right time to get a reaction out of him, or someone he didn't hate.  
  
It was about Willow. Hell if he knew how, or when. And right about then, in that quiet, dark room, with her laying across his chest, with the knowledge that it was going to blow up in both their faces--right about then, he felt more centered than he had in months.  
  
***  
  
Angel woke before sunset, not sure what had disturbed him. Then he heard the sink running in the bathroom, and realized Willow was awake. A few moments later, she left the bathroom and tapped at the door, hesitantly opening it and peering in.  
  
Her face was unsure, shaken, and scared. And Angel remembered then why he'd remained the voice of reason for so long, despite it being a lost cause: Willow. He slipped out of bed and Drusilla and Dev gravitated to the center spot he left open. He pulled a shirt on, and then he and Willow made their way downstairs to the kitchen.  
  
She poured herself a glass of juice and sat at the table while he prepared blood for himself. She seemed to be gathering herself, so Angel sipped from his mug and sat across from her, waiting for her to speak.  
  
"I've done a stupid thing," she said finally.  
  
"What did you do?" he asked gently.  
  
Willow tucked her hair behind her ears, then shook her head. "I'm so confused," she said instead of answering him. "I feel like I'm in this place, and I don't remember going there. I'm just---there. And I don't know what I'm seeing ahead of me, because I wasn't paying attention while I was getting there."  
  
Angel was silent for a long moment. "I don't know what to tell you, Will. We all wind up in that boat at one time or another. There's no right way to handle it."  
  
She made a frustrated noise. "Where's the wisdom acquired during more than two hundred years, not to mention that time in Hell?"  
  
"Only fools think they're wise," he said with a shrug. "I know that Spike can be--"  
  
"It's not about--" she began, and he eyed her dubiously. She took a breath and a tired look came to her face. "It's not *just* about him," she said quietly. "It's magic, and not-really death, and--yeah, Spike. It's pretty much everything."  
  
"Maybe so," he conceded. He stared at her until she met his eyes squarely. "But the center of it all? We both know who's there."  
  
She nodded slowly. "I guess we do." Frowning, she looked away from him. "I went to sleep in my room, and I woke up in the spare bedroom. With Spike. And I felt...good, and right, and a whole bunch of other stuff. I got up to go to the bathroom, and as soon as I closed the bedroom door behind me, I didn't feel that way anymore. So I opened the door, and I felt good again. I closed it, and I didn't feel good again. And you know what I noticed?"  
  
"That he was making a noise, and it was the noise that was making you feel that way," Angel answered.  
  
Large green eyes met his once again. "Why, exactly, is that?" she asked carefully.  
  
Angel drained his mug, then sat back. It was going to be a long conversation.  
  
*** 


End file.
